#every Michelle jones shot

[queen-daya]

Every Shot of Michelle Jones (Part 34/♾️)

[mysuperpowerisaudhd]

has anyone ever thought of how much guilt peter has felt or has been feeling when he didn’t get to save mj from the fall?

he managed to save liz once, so he jumped without any hesitation this time for mj.

yes, she was saved anyway, but can you imagine the pool of emotions that peter felt in a span of a few seconds? his frame in the shot looked completely stunned and helpless. in the same exact moment, this peter doesn’t even know if mj made it down safely thanks to the other peter parkers or if she even made it at all.

seeing how much anger peter had in his eyes before blasting the goblin’s hoverboard after getting swooped by him was truly heartbreaking. i wonder if this event also keeps him at night and that’s why he decided not to tell mj who he really was in the end of no way home?

[hwaightme]

Bang bang

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR STAR'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

⚫ pairing: gangster/mafia!seonghwa x stripper/afab!reader ⚫ genre: smut, mafia!au, noir, ganster film style, bits of angst ⚫ summary: Bang bang, he shot me down / Bang bang, I hit the ground / Bang bang, that awful sound / Bang bang, my baby shot me down... the words never sounded truer as you hunt for the man who made you fall from grace. ⚫ wordcount: 14.6k ⚫ warnings/tags: barely edited (written in a chaotic flurry), gangsters, murder, guns, blood, attacking, language, strip club, slight objectification, rudeness, bickering and arguing, emotional manipulation, revenge, death [of a side oc], yandere themes, obsessive behaviour, alcohol, money, seonghwa driving expensive cars, betrayal mention... lmk if anything else. ⚫ perma-taglist: @legohwas @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @hoshischeekss @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 ⚫ a/n: HAPPY SEONGHWA DAY!!!! May our brightest star be blessed with everything and more <3 (and never venture into what this fic contains lol); much love and appreciation to nora for going unchained over mafia hwa, and for supporting me through the blackout that was the writing process for this fic. Much love, all reblogs, comments, thoughts welcome~

⚫ nsfw tags: hate sex, car sex, fingering (receiving), sub-leaning reader but a hardcore brat, dom-leaning seonghwa but he enjoys the degradation, degradation (whore, slut, cock slut...), pet names and praises (doll, precious angel, darling, baby, sweetheart), a bit of impact play (slapping), orgasm denial, doggy style, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), blowjob, deepthroating, hair tugging/yanking, manhandling, grinding, spit play, come in mouth/swallowing... whew

⚫ playlist: bang bang (from kill bill) by geek music, showed me (how i fell in love with you) by madison beer, you put a spell on me by austin giorgio, i've got to see you again by norah jones, who do you want by ex habit, woman by emmit fenn, bad drugs by king kavalier, often by the weeknd, chills (dark version) by mickey valen

Bang bang… he shot me down…

You had given up on seeing him again. Searching for him, hellbent on getting the last word. You had been confident that finally, after all this time, your tortured soul could get some rest. That was until your eyes locked with his in a silent duel, that shit-eating grin on his face growing wider as he studied the wounds he had left behind. The invisible scars that were the start of your metamorphosis.

It was not that you had never imagined meeting the fiendish man again – in fact, you swore that it was your only relief: to fantasise about what you would do if you were to physically cross paths somewhere in this forlorn city, and many nights you would wake up in cold sweat after hearing the intoxicating low-toned laughter resonate in your skull. He haunted you and you knew that he was watching your every move like a sadistic predator. As such, the only thing that had driven you out of your madness, the flimsy umbrella that you clung onto amidst your fall from the life you had built and hoped to have, was to wish that one day, you could do the same. And seeing him right there, in front of you, in his tailored suit and jewellery bathed in blood as the spotlights made him look like the devil himself, the notion of hoping returned.

When a strobe light flashed across his faced you saw him lean and whisper something into the ear of one of his goons, evidently excited to having spotted you. After the ever so slightly shorter, but impressively built, undoubtedly a dark-souled man armed to the teeth, surely his bodyguard, nodded a couple of times, and in turn called over one of the waiters to continue the chain only for the latter to shrink and rush off into the backrooms, your nightmare ambled towards the bar. With a quick unbuttoning of his suit jacket, he settled in one of the stools and spun around to face the stage. To face you. Subject you to a mocking scrutiny while you had no choice but to continue dancing.

As he mindlessly took a black card out of his pocket and passed it to the bartender, without sparing a glance behind him, the object pinched between his pointer and middle fingers, you were in your lonesome on the stage, fighting an uphill battle for every coin and paper bill. Spinning in circles like an animal trapped in a cage, clinging to the pole as though it was a thread connecting you to existence itself, even though experience had shown you that in this, you were skilled only in going down. That man who made living seem easy, despite, or perhaps thanks to the darkness from which he was undoubtedly spawned. Your first love, your first heartbreak, your first glimpse into how the world could chew you up and spit you out – life that was a forbidden fruit so beautiful, so tantalising to where through atrocious flavour and agony one would bite through to the rotten centre and willingly lose their senses to keep a piece to themselves.

His eyes tirelessly accompanied your every move as you went through your routine. Grinding against the pole, crawling across the stage as onlookers and perverts – those who you had to call revered guests because they could spend, and spend a lot, ogled you and yelled heinous remarks, you had not felt so humiliated in a long time. The transition to your present career had been a follow up to a series of events that had shut all other doors – you considered yourself lucky that you had even had the chance to catch yourself on these professional branches during your painful descent. And you had to admit, it did pay well. In a couple of months, after you had definitely breached all work hour regulations, you had managed to pay off your fines and numb yourself to your revoked medical licence. Things were looking up, like the heels you wore. Not quite sky-high, but nevertheless, not in the sewers. But now that being sat at the bar, devouring you with his smouldering gaze and using you for cheap amusement, made you feel filthy. With his pristine, clean, supreme ‘I am above you all’ aura, he might as well state that he owned you. Maybe, in a way, he did. Since his ‘company’, or as one would say ‘bunch of organised hoodlums in suits’ behind closed doors, owned this club among many others dotted around the metropolis.

You climbed up, approaching the finale of your performance. Soon you would be able to leave that creature’s gaze and hide in the rank bathrooms until the coast was clear. Even if that meant you had to abandon the bills. Or no, no you would have the time. You had rent to pay, what were you thinking? And you still needed to return the money you borrowed for the funeral, despite you being told that your now ex could be left to rot just fine. The act was more for you anyways – you wanted to prove to yourself that you still knew honour and tradition, regardless of how far you had been swept up by the unforgiving currents of the underworld. So now, to pay for your illusion of honour, you put on a show and flaunted what you had, fuelled by an undercurrent of indescribable disgust.

To the numbing bassline and an addictive beat you went higher and higher, letting the sensuality envelop you once more. If the months that stacked themselves like cash had taught you anything, this passage of time that you had spent nomadic, performing in one club, another, until you ended up in the one where you were now centre stage, it was that professionalism came first. You were surprised to find out just how many of your academic and practical skills had actually been put to good use – well, maybe not things like knowing components of the limbic system but having a steady hand and being able to manoeuvre out of uncomfortable situations in a cool and calculated manner certainly did their wonders. As you performed a high kick hold, and let your toes discreetly push off the ground for more momentum, you were already thinking a couple of steps ahead. The fairy, the floaters transition, you mentally listed and promptly ticked off the items, going from one move to another. It was nothing more than an elaborate ploy to convince those ogling you, some even unceremoniously palming themselves through their trousers, to give you their ‘hard earned cash’. Though, you never wanted to know where exactly that cash came from. It was not your problem, and you were quick enough to realise that it was better to keep your mouth shut and ask less questions. What these men wanted to see was a pretty doll spinning on a pole as if just for them, a fantasy just a couple of steps away from them. Not some amateur interrogator. 

His figure burned into your retinas as you amplified your dramatics, and stole the night for yourself with flair, flipping yourself upside down, only to recover and descend into your final pose. Due to the sweat and the light body highlighter that you had applied to make your features pop, you were an impossibly entrancing vision. A deity of the underworld that just so happened to find it entertaining to grace the local scum with her presence. 

The handsome black-haired man, an enticing, lethal ‘bella donna’ flower continued watching the forbidden apple of his eye. He had finally gotten you within his reach after so many months of playing cat and mouse. You were unbelievably easy to track, never having attempted to hide yourself, but for him to restrain himself for so long and not hunt you down at first opportunity was borderline torturous. Park Seonghwa was never one to wait. If he wanted something, or someone, he got it instantly, handed to him on a platinum platter. But your hatred was like an addictive scent that brought him to an unprecedented high. Each time he had news delivered of you discreetly asking after him at a club, or you trying to frequent an area where he had been spotted, evidently on a mission to do exactly what he was doing to you, it brought Seonghwa an excitement that shook him to the core.

But now that you were here, in his lair, his first club that he had opened, still a junior in the business at the time and coincidentally, still having been in what could be called a relationship with you, he could not resist. His mind had been screaming Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, every hour of the day, and his primal desires grew stronger than ever before. As he inspected the way in which you bent down to take bills from eager hands, coy and purposefully demure so as to attract even more tips, sinful musings clouded him. He could not ignore the curve of your back as you tapped another fowl man’s chin and took what was definitely over his budget right out of his beggarly hands. Seonghwa was tense as he focused on the white dancewear that adorned your body, elegant lace providing a dizzying contrast to the lewd scene as you let another imp paw at your ass as he hooked the waistband of your thong to leave more crisp notes.

The act of a sensational seductress, you practically glided off the stage, the platform heels doing little to diminish your resolve. You were even better than what he could have ever imagined from the stories that his closest allies and bodyguards had relayed to him. And while, San, the man who he had entrusted with observing you particularly closely once news had gotten around that you joined Club Estelle, had expressed your resounding success and renowned desirability on a number of occasions, now that Seonghwa had seen it he was nothing but proud. His masterpiece, his project, his precious little cherub was doing so well. All for him. How could he not grace you with his presence after seeing such a show?

You knew there was no way of escaping the monster, even if you had the ability to turn invisible, so you were not too surprised when you had found the man who had been next to him for the duration of the performance standing in front of you. What you were taken aback by, was how in just a flash, the man’s intimidating aura dissipated to reveal a charming, heart melting smile and twinkling eyes.

“Miss L/N Y/N?” voice equally as sweet, he inquired. Though you had no doubt that his was just airs preceding the request for you to accompany him to his boss.

“Yes. And you are?” remaining amiable, albeit distant, you responded, crossing your arms in a subconsciously protective manner.

“Merely delivering the request for your audience with my chief.”

You motioned for him to accompany you to the back, signalling that you needed to store the cash before any further discussions were made. The sweetheart obliged, and let you take the lead. In your peripherals, you spotted Seonghwa gripping his drink a little too tightly to be indifferent. As questionably possessive as ever, it seemed. Once you and the muscular bodyguard who you discovered was wearing a double holder were behind the curtain that served as a door to a dark corridor, you continued the conversation.

“A request or an order?” 

Absent-mindedly, you checked the quantity of the bills which you had collected - the rest were already waiting for you in the room, courtesy of the waitstaff whom you had actually managed to make something of a deal with: you did not tell anyone about their habit of permanently borrowing beverages from the bar, and they did small errands for you. Maybe this man with cat-like features was in a similar agreement with Seonghwa, though the likelihood of there being blood involved was too high.

“A request that I would definitely advise you to follow.” he insisted, holding open the door to the changing room as you inspected the bucket that had been left for you in the corner, with neatly collected, crisp notes. Your favourite sight as of late.

“If you answer my question.” you threw out while organising the money inside of a sports bag - the storage of your professional life. Once you were done, you shoved the item into your personal locker, sealing it shut and spinning around to face the man again as he beckoned you.

“Kindly, follow me, Miss.”

“Who am I following?” you repeated, desperately curious to know of this man’s identity. Nevertheless, your feet carried you forward, and you yielded to his summons, heading back out into the club.

“Mister Park Seonghwa’s man.”

“Ooh, his man…”

“Right hand man.” he elaborated, making you roll your eyes.

“So no name to pair with such a handsome face?”

The answers were almost automatic. It was not foreign to you to flirt with strangers, since that way you amplified your chances of financial success, but never before did you catch yourself being so passive, even when the intonations were well practised and near identical to what you would normally say. But there was no one, nor nothing, to blame except the hardwired response to the nearing figure of a very specific gangster, on whom your gaze immediately settled as soon as you reached the edge of the prolonged bar counter.

“I believe that Mister Park would not enjoy hearing such words from you.” of course he would not. When did he ever enjoy you complimenting anyone else except him? San steeled himself as he lowered his head, while you let the fingers of your right hand flitter over the counter as you sauntered over to the man who could not even be bothered to approach you himself, despite having evaporated from your life for an unbearable collection of months.

“Then he would not have sent you to fetch me. He should know that I appreciate beauty-” you were testing your luck, uttering the words when within the gangster’s earshot. Thankfully for San, he chose to take the matter into his own hands and, setting aside the glass of cognac with a delicate push, addressed his bodyguard.

“Sannie, is Y/N giving you a tough time?”

Your name sounded precious, meaningful when he said it. Like it had a genuine purpose in this mortal realm. A melodic uttering of simple sounds that drowned out the pulsing beat that zombified the visitors of Club Estelle. Whether that music was on or not made no difference to you - either way, you would only hear Seonghwa. His voice was like a rumbling of an oncoming thunderstorm amidst a nighttime quiet. The rolling growls of heaven’s rage as steel grey clouds stalked across the sky, wrapping the defenceless earth in a catastrophic promise. With nothing but a foggy trepidation in your chest, you slid onto the seat that was to your nightmare’s right, turning to have your back to the bar and rest your elbows behind you on the elevated table. 

“Uh, not at all, sir.” San’s shift in mien was comical. In a flash, he had stepped down from the pedestal of a man who made the demands, to a servant who you struggled to imagine acting a step out of the lines that his boss had drawn out for him. You raised an eyebrow, giving the guard a onceover.

“Sannie?”

“Yes, darling. San. Like a mountain. Isn’t it cute?” Seonghwa interjected again, not letting the man who you were addressing as much as regard you. Apparently, being under his command also meant that you were instantly off limits. How dull.

“Interesting word choice…”

“He is a cutie, though, aren’t you, Sannie?” smirk gracing his lips, Seonghwa teased the cutie, who, judging by the sheer broadness of his shoulders, could probably snap a person in half with his bare hands. Not that the person would complain since the last thing they would see would be that pretty face… but that was besides the point. No one in the mafia was soft and fluffy. And if there had ever been, they had not survived long enough to establish themselves as the sole representative in history. 

“No comment.” 

“See? How fucking adorable,” with an icy tone, Seonghwa concluded. “Now, could you give us some time to speak tête-à-tête?”

“Of course.”

As rapidly as his appearance had been, so was his departure into the lingering crowd. A newbie - even more new to the business than you, was beginning her performance, and had caught the attention of a couple of the regular patrons, and the lewd chatter had picked up considerably. It was apparent, however, that it was not enough to capture the interest of the man in front of you, who shifted his seating to face in your direction, and officially broke open the door into your life once again. Not because you had been tirelessly searching for him. But because he found it beneficial for himself to make himself known to you.

“Greetings and salutations, Y/N, it’s been a while. We have much to catch up on, don’t you think?” you blinked slowly, suppressing a rude scoff. People were still watching you, that much you were aware of. Those were the perks, or the faults with wearing stripper dancewear. You were the fixation of lustful eyes, the cool glass of water that was just out of reach for the hoards of parched scum.

“I have nothing to say to you, Seonghwa.”

“Ah how I missed you saying my name.”

“And I’d rather you keep mine out of your mouth.” a total lie, had you considered your instincts and how your legs had instinctively tilted closer to the brunette, but you were not about to throw away months of fantasising the man’s demise at the first interaction. You had at least some restraint left.

“Only if you can silence me. I know a couple of ways.” he winked, but you pretended not to catch it as you stared down at his hand that was lying on the counter, studying the ornate decal on the fingerless leather glove.

Taking notice of your preoccupation, he tapped his fingers on the surface, making the silver studs that ran down each digit and surrounded the opening on the back of the hand shine in the glimmering lights. You counted the holes that revealed his knuckles, for no reason other than to try shifting focus. You were not opposed to this kind of interaction. Gestures. Hints. Symbols. It was a horrifying craving that started in the abyss that Seonghwa had left in your tarnished soul, an affliction caused and amplified even by the most mundane details. You could feel those same fingers wrapping themselves around your neck, tracing your jawline, making a ghostly descent down your body. A shiver ran down your spine as you tore yourself away from the sight that had turned into a sinful recollection, forcing out a jarring taunt to convince yourself that there were no undertones to Seonghwa’s phrase.

“With a gun?”

He was not buying it. His precious flower, barely dressed and yet graceful to the extent of rivalling divinity, squirming from his mere presence. This was what he had been searching for, all this time that he had denied you contact. You had been a bad girl. Running, thinking you were pure and angelic. He did not want you that way, so he took his time winding you up, making your world collapse so that you would be ready to take the real him. Not the foolish goon that he had been before. You had been so sweet, doting on him and showing him off to your friends. But what he yearned for was the animalistic antagonisation of his very being. The fire in your heart that drove you to a vengeful insanity. Seonghwa’s tongue pushed at the corner of his mouth before running over his bottom lip, disappearing to give way to a smug grin as he noticed your eyes dart to the action. He comprehended your capabilities properly. More than any of those quacks who you had looked up to ever could. Your demons were loud, and yet you had gone to great lengths to suppress them, even when you were the most beautiful like this. The mortal embodiment of Discordia. Truly, the one deity he would worship. The only one who he would continue sacrificing for.

“Ah, that reminds me. Heard about your boyfriend, such a shame really. He was so young…” he pondered out loud, not a single bit apologetic.

“That’s rich coming from the man who put a bullet between his eyes.” you hissed, crossing your arms as a man walked past and openly gawked at your breasts. 

Though that quickly resulted in a not so subtle threat, with Seonghwa leaning back to adjust his jacket, only to reveal the grip of a menacing handgun, tucked away into a leather holster. The visitor, who had purposely slowed his pace, bolted from the spot, giving the gangster one final look before rushing to the other side of the club. As if looking for your praise, or approval, Seonghwa hid the gun from sight once again and gazed at you, softer and more affectionate than before, his eyes transforming to take on more of a doe shape and inducing an uncomfortable pain. When you did not satisfy him, he clicked his tongue and ran his hands over his hair, shorter at the sides and revealing a buzzcut design that had begun to fade with growth. The new style suited him, you decided. Almost too well. It was frustrating.

“Ah, ah, no. Not me. My hands are clean, sweetheart.” he raised them, a hilarious attempt at trying to prove his innocence which you chose to ignore. No matter how obsessively he washed his acts away, blood was more than a rusty red liquid. It was a curse that stained the skin of those who wished to draw it with an eternal permanence, passing from generation to generation until the Earth was saturated with the hue. Ignoring the blatant bullshit, you mused the fate of the man who you had used to fill the void.

“What the fuck did he even do to you guys?”

“Oh you know how it is. Got a taste of success, got a little too greedy… and kaput. Didn’t keep a clean inventory and clean percentages, you see. And I don’t like when things aren’t clean.” you did not have to be brought into the matter any further than that. You certainly did not need to be let in on the fact that your ex was actually one of the best dealers in his district. He was just a little too close to you for Seonghwa’s comfort.

“Sure you don’t. You said the word, what, four times already? That’s why you even launder your money…” you muttered, not noticing how Seonghwa’s elbow slid closer to you until his hand began to play with a lock of your hair.

“Ah, so attentive, counting what I say…” twirling it around his finger, he observed how the myriad of colour from the club’s lights managed to change its shine, and let it fall back into an alluring cascade, “... and not only that, we also do pest control. The last thing we need is lowly vermin poisoning our supply chains and ruining user experience for our end clients, right?”

“I still don’t-”

“Funny how you got involved with him. Of all people. A drug dealer.” it was easy to make you shift focus. One mention of your failed career, and you were gone. So, in a dire situation such as this, Seonghwa would be a fool not to use this fact.

“Guess he was the only one there to actually support me in the shitstorm. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“Now, now, no need to thank me, darling, when I did nothing-”

“I was blacklisted, Seonghwa. Do you know what that means?” slamming the counter with your hand, you stood up off the stool and glowered. Oh, how adorable it was when you got so riled up. A darkness flashed across his eyes as he imagined you to be a tiny predator, ready to pounce. How endearing.

“I can try to guess, though something tells me you will provide more details.” he egged you on, enthralled by how you tried to hover over him, but still retained his favourite fragility.

“It means my dreams have gone up a rat’s ass. I wanted to be a nurse, Seonghwa. And yet, as soon as I get to work, the next day after helping you and your stupid goons, I get kicked out and sued.” The only downside that he could see was that he would not be able to have his way with you were all professional and in a dainty nurse’s outfit. Though… he would have had to make some adjustments to the scrubs for that. A few rips here and there would not hurt anybody.

“It really was only basic supplies that you permanently borrowed, and for the greater good at that. I still think the hospital over-exaggerated.” you had been more than benevolent. Overlooking status, background and appearance you had dashed to lend a hand. Seonghwa had counted on you to do that so that he could drag you down closer to himself.

“In the eyes of the law, I am a thief who has gotten away with far too light a punishment.”

“And I see a saviour.” a merciful fucktoy who he had initially simply been playing around with, only to discover that you were so pathetically trusting that he could not help but fall in love.

“Poetic.” you responded sarcastically, raising your eyebrows. Seonghwa was bearing witness to the dissolution of your resistance. As much as you wished you could keep the game up, his charming falsities and unforgivable seduction were a delight that you could not withstand. 

“You know one of those ‘stupid goons’ celebrated his wedding anniversary with his wife two months ago? And then the other sent his daughter to primary school not long ago… Like I said, you made a sacrifice that those bureaucratic little shits, hidden away in offices, would never make. You care for people.”

His hands snaked to your hips, and he pulled you closer to him until you were trapped with his legs on either side of you. Even though physically you were the one looking down, every passing second you felt more and more like a lab experiment or a sample under a microscope. He was dissecting you, tearing you apart and rebuilding you once again so that you would be just right. Just for him. His favourite doll.

“Seems I care for the wrong people.” you alluded to the man in front of you, a shallow, staggered breath escaping you as he gripped a little tighter.

“Do you regret it?” his eyes. Two dark pools which housed your tailored terror, but had to be so lovable. The devil always took on the most beautiful form.

Your silence told him everything he needed to hear. You could have pushed him away, slapped him across the cheek. Hell, you could have told San to get lost - though in that case you would have probably been disposed of and continued your existence as an addition to a faraway landfill. But that was besides the point. Because you were not indifferent. And the boundary between love and hatred was nearly invisible.

“So happy to have you here. At last.” just as he was about to bring you into an embrace, drunk from the elation of your first meeting in what had to have been an eternity, you pressed down on his shoulders, narrowly avoiding the stark white collar of his shirt that was laid over his jacket, and pushed away, hostility written over your features.

“That’s why I bet you are proud of having sold me out.”

“Who said that?” confused, Seonghwa inquired.

“I just know it.”

“And I am asking, who told you that I sold you out?” stuck in what could only be equated to a tug of war, the two of you were challenging each other to ‘try their worst’.

“My e-”

“The druggie. Right. Of course he did. I bet he told you a lot of things.”

“Like how you used me…”

“Uh-huh,” his hands glided up your body until he stood up, and your arms were limp at your sides once more.

“Corrupted me…”

“My love, you’re still an angel,” he cupped your chin and gazed deep into your eyes, noting that it was as if you were reciting something that you had practised time and time again in front of a mirror until it made no more sense to you than white noise.

“Then betrayed me…”

“Something I would not do under any circumstance. You know what family honour is.” Seonghwa did not betray. He acted in ways that benefited him. And if it just so happened to leave others hurt, it was their fault for caring so much.

“Family. What the hell do you know about family?” you were seething. He was burning you. Again, and again, and again. And you were readily giving in every single time.

“Certainly more than you. Oh sweetheart, I know how lonely you have been-” he wanted to comfort you, even if that made him nauseous, but thankfully, you were not in the mood and stepped away, making him let go of you.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I only want to-”

“I said. Don’t. Seonghwa. Look. I- I hate you. Okay?” music to his ears. How you desperately tried to get away from him and from your own feelings. Scared little pet.

“Are you trying to convince yourself?” the phrase echoed within you as you took another step backwards, realising too late that you had let him wrap himself around you like a hungry python. You needed out. This was it. Final. You needed some air. Or better, to return home, climb into bed, and pretend this never happened. Future you could handle this problem, present you was irrational, risk-seeking and a harm to the self.

“N-no. I. I need to go.”

“You know you can’t.” Seonghwa whispered out loud as he watched your determined departure, right up until you were behind that heavy velvet curtain. 

He picked up his glass and studied the clear, russet contents, and let the liquid slosh around to take in the aroma. With a quick sip, he was back to his usual self, and the smile that was on his face was instantly erased. Bored, the dangerous man leaned against the counter with the weight of his body, imitating your earlier posture and commanded:

“San, I know you’re lurking, come here.” Indeed, in a matter of seconds, his bodyguard appeared from behind one of the pillars that was located closer to the kitchen.

“Yes, sir?”

“You see that man over there?” raising his glass, Seonghwa pointed in the direction of one of the very dedicated hounds who was by the stage. He had been particularly involved in your act, and from the moment Seonghwa had first noticed him, to the very last moment that you were up there, the tipsy man had probably dropped at least a couple thousand dollars’ worth of cash. He was the perfect candidate for the gangster’s plan.

“The one in the green hoodie?”

“Yes, that sleazy bastard. How about we cast him as the bad guy, huh? Payment upfront.” San nodded. The method was simple, and had shown tremendous success in the past. He hummed in agreement, waiting for Seonghwa to add his usual:

“Temporarily, of course. All in good fun.”

“Understood. What should I lay over?”

“That a certain Y/N is particularly ravishing after her performances, and will be at the back exit in about twenty minutes.”

Bang bang, I hit the ground…

Maybe what that gangster had said was true, and that you were too good for the ‘overworld’. It was an attractive thought. Perhaps after the doors to the medical field and consequently a wide range of other careers you had considered had been shut, due to your newfound, albeit light, but nevertheless a serious enough criminal record, you ended up simply tapping into your true nature as a creature of the underworld. While out there, you had always been average, here you were a saviour. A goddess. A queen. Maybe you indeed were celebrated and had gifts thrown at your feet exactly because you deserved nothing less. The chasm that was the dark side of the corrupt city might be your true home, and you had simply been in denial, running away from it. 

How easy it was to fall back into your patterns. As you sank into Seonghwa’s eyes, you recollected your time with him. The attentiveness that he had shown you. The way in which he would patiently listen to you explain obscure medical terminology, convincing you that, to him and him alone, it was interesting. You had felt blessed then. And that was exactly why you wanted to erase him. As you strutted down the corridor that ran behind the main hall of the club, leading you to the back rooms that were for staff and artists only, you shook your head. Wishful that this would help you get rid of the reminiscing of the last ‘easy’ time of your life. Before you revealed to yourself that you would commit a crime in the name of love. Even when that love was merely an illusion. Confused by your own feelings, still seeing a glowing red target over Seonghwa’s evil heart while making out golden glimmers on its surface, you stormed into the changing room and let out a sigh of relief as you saw it completely empty. You could meditate on your frightening conversation with the devil himself.

There was something therapeutic about the wind down from your performances, if you were to forget about the side eyes you were being thrown after having been caught talking to the owner of the establishment, and according to some of the whispers, a very desired man. How they could overlook the fact that he was more cold blooded than a snake when it came to satisfying their need for a happy and tranquil life amazed you. With the thumping of the music feeling so far away that you were practically enveloped in a sea of cotton, and the lights emitting a more familiar fluorescence, like a late night grocery store rather than the strobes, sickly colour selections and kaleidoscopic reflections, the changing room was a sort of safe space. You were trying to stuff the bills that you had collected, and the chunky stripper heels into a nondescript sports bag, after having covered yourself up with something more appropriate for a ‘so late it could be considered early’ trek back home.

You needed time to yourself before you were going to black out and make some foolish decisions concerning that conniving man. It was a curse, without a doubt. Not dissimilar to the very drugs you had smuggled, he was hard to quit. And you hated him for it. At least this was what you had been openly declaring, and were not going to give up on. If anything, this was your new habit. Imagining revenge on Park Seonghwa. You were going to get it. Eventually. You still had some hope left in you, even though your feet were currently struggling to hold you up, even in your sneakers, a hint of a fire in your chest as your memories of the man were refreshed. Did he have to look more handsome than before? More refined? More demonic?

When you had met him during a night out with your friends at a bar in the classier side of town, Seonghwa had introduced himself as an ‘intern’, which you now understood as one of the lower ranking goons who did the dirty work. Now, he was all white shirt and spotless sleeves, smooth skin and perfectly manicured hands, only a breath away from being a model rather than a hardened and ruthless criminal. Perhaps it was this contrast that had resulted in the man having cemented the nickname ‘Mars’ for himself, as you had found out from a few tipsy insiders who would do anything for a private show. The god of war, destruction, bloodshed, all in the name of an interpretation of peace and prosperity. The dangerous balance on the tip of a razor, by which you had undoubtedly been slaughtered.

He was a mastermind, a monstrosity in a beautiful guise as he ran, alongside the uppermost echelons of the mafia that effectively had the city, and at this point you would not put it beyond them - the country in a chokehold, the numerous operations that kept the underworld’s heart pumping. An inky fluid, viscous and bitter, one which you had accepted in a pretty glass of so-called love without thinking twice. Seonghwa knew how to make you happy. And the longer that went on, the more of a problem that became. He knew just how to spin thread out of you, how to wrap you again, and again around his finger until you were nothing more than one of the rings that he would occasionally wear to complete his outfits. And in such a hypnotised state, you thought you were doing the right thing when you broke into the place that was housing your professional dreams, and crept to retrieve some of the most sought after medication. Just for him. Oh how he thanked you then. How he had professed his love to you and praised you. You had been on cloud nine. Until you found out that someone had anonymously filed a report against you, provided all evidence, somehow all in the same night, and by the next midday you had already been summoned to court.

The day when you had stepped out of the courthouse was imprinted in your mind. Having received a much kinder sentence than one you had expected - more financial and reputational damages than anything else, you had been upbeat enough to engage in smalltalk with the state-provided lawyer whose name you had forgotten in a few hours. At least you had been that way before you saw him across the street. Lower body hidden by a jet black, matte sports car, black suit, black shirt, black hair… the reaper himself having arrived to taunt you and laugh at the death of your career. A carefree smile had been replaced by a deep scowl as the gears clicked, the puzzle completed itself in your head. Seonghwa. It had to be Seonghwa. It took every fibre of your being to restrain yourself from committing another criminal offence and attack him, and instead watch him climb into his car as though you had been nothing but empty space to him, and speed off in the direction of uptown. A murder most fowl. Of your soul, of your heart. And what mind you had left, you had promised to dedicate to hunting him down.

You sighed as you heaved the emergency exit door open, having avoided the main back entrance out of fear that Seonghwa might be there, or anywhere inside Club Estelle. What did you mean by hunting him down? Now that he was there. Within slapping distance, if you were to put it in an unceremonious manner. What were you actually seeking? Was it your mind twisting your desire for him to simply make a return and instead of stalling on your destruction, simply go on ahead with it and shoot you down? You shook your head, pulling the hoodie that was covering your otherwise scandalous outfit tighter around you as the cool air enveloped you. It was almost peaceful. Almost quiet. Almost.

“Hey Y/N~ you put on suuuuch a goood show, baby girl… fucking fantastic… damn. Was told I could catch you here and damn, you are a goddess.”

You snapped in the direction of the sound, finding a man who was rocking side to side approaching you. Relatively tall, scruffy, with dirt-stained clothing hanging off, unfortunately, a more athletic-looking body. So striking him with one of the heels in your bag and running was out of the question. Besides, who knew how he would act if he saw the cash? You backed away having been met by the stench of what had to have been at least three shots of the strongest liquor in the house, and found yourself with your back pressed against a wall of the dimly lit alleyway between the club, and a line of dumpsters, with this very drunk problem whose perverted grin was inducing an uncontrollable trembling. The longer you stood in this state of a showdown, much like a wild west film, the more he was suffocating you with the overwhelming, acrid stench of sweat, cigarettes and whatever concoction his stomach had made out of the alcohol he had consumed.

“Can I get a… private show, huh? Swear’ve been good just for you baby girl.”

You suddenly felt so alone. Abandoned. Terrifying conclusions running through your head. There was not a single performer at the club who you were more than acquaintances with, and even then, would they help? The club bouncers rarely got involved since the majority of the customers were high-paying, and apparently the rule there was: if they had cash, they could behave like trash. Maybe a dead stripper to them was just the usual night. Who would you have called in the past? You hated to admit the name, the face that floated into your brain as soon as you asked yourself the question. But Seonghwa had a way with situations like this. He had stood up for you before, to the point where you had to kiss away his pain and treat his wounds - though that was nothing compared to the scarlet sight that he had painted in your honour. It was horrific, and yet, he had made you smile. It had probably been the grandest gesture of adoration that you had ever received. 

Still managing to keep some distance between you and the disgusting creature, your brain went into overdrive. You were backing away from him, but there was only so much time before he would pounce. As much as you wanted to just scream your heart out and pray some, well, a very specific, knight in shining armour would appear out of nowhere, you were a big girl and knew that the stories you indulged in reading were not true. In real life, and especially your own life, you had to be your own hero. It was your mission to remind yourself that Seonghwa was a villain. So you tried to project him onto your temporary enemy.

Although the action made bile rise in your throat, you peered into the drunk’s eyes, trying to read his actions. Not quite walking straight, he took another step towards you, supporting himself by pushing on the dumpster to his left, your right. You immediately mirrored it, your hand feeling for the wall to your right. A couple more steps and you would be right beside a trash pile that you had spotted when you first appeared in the alley way from the staff exit – the bastard sure was persistent and did not want to give up on you. You sneered – it could almost be his redeeming quality, compared to a certain someone else who liked to drive into the metropolis and then turn into an omniscient poltergeist.

“Come on, why are you being such a tease? Weren’t you having the time of your life earlier? So sexy, don’t you want to use that?”

He was making your skin crawl. You were trying your hardest to not interact with him more than necessary and stayed quiet. One wrong move and you were going to be in much deeper trouble than this. The sort where the best-case scenario you envisioned was showing up in the news, not so alive and in a ditch. The situation reminded you of a short story by Rudyard Kipling, Rikki-Tikki-Tavi, but instead of a face off between a mongoose and a king cobra, there was a young woman with a flurry of ruminations and a myriad of regrets. Though the latter was definitely swaying like a snake.

“Hey, baby girl, are you not going to come to daddy any time soon? I am getting impatient, baby, and you don’t want to piss me off.” He growled, his previously aimless blabber turning into a threat.

Your body was screaming for you to just make a run for it, but you knew better than that. This guy, unfortunately for you, was sporty enough and lanky enough to catch up to you in no time. On top of his build, you had the brilliant idea to wear new heels for your show today, which had cut into your flesh just enough to hurt, as if scolding you and repeating ‘I told you so’ and leaving your feet exhausted. As you stole a glance at the more comfortable pair of shoes for which you had settled, it was as though a lightbulb went off in your head. That was right. You did have manoeuvrability. You just needed to get one hit. 

You neared the exit of the alley, judging your proximity solely by the light emanating from a lonely street lamp right back on the main street. You steadied yourself as you saw the man open his mouth again and crouched further down to reach for an empty wine bottle that was lying on top of the pile you had been counting on. Keeping it hidden from the man, you stepped to the side, obscuring half of your body behind the large trash bin.

“What are you doing you bitch, huh? Answer me. I’ll give you one more chance.”

You remained silent, sliding your bag off your shoulder for better movement, pleading that it would not make a noise. The first glide down your upper arm was smooth enough, though your relief did not last long as it accelerated and came down to crash on some debris. That appeared to trigger new aggression in your opponent, as he practically snarled and lunged forwards, arms outstretched. You jumped backwards, only nearly missing a pipe protruding from one of the walls, and made contact with one of the walls, tripping the man as you did so. You were not thinking clearly, vision a blur, your surroundings spinning. You had only one mission now – survive. While the man was picking himself up, cursing and inspecting his painfully grazed hands, your eyes focused on the back of his head.

What if this was Seonghwa? What would you do? He had betrayed you, didn’t he? He had no right to be in your life again, regardless of your instincts. Regardless of how terrific he looked and how much he wanted you. An otherworldly rage overtook you as you imagined the devil in place of this sinner. In his designer suit, with his slicked back hair and chains that would glitter like stars even in the dim light. The set up made your body act on its own. You were fuelled by your anguish, and each sensation in the present turned into a re-enactment of your inner turmoil that had built up over the time. The guttural shriek, the stinging tears threatening to roll down your cheeks as you shut your eyes and swung with all your might only to meet-

-nothingness. A strong grip of your wrist and a firm chest pressed against your back prevented you from moving. And again, that familiar scent. Your drug. Your demise. The emergency exit door snapped itself shut, suggesting that Seonghwa had only now made it into the alleyway, and an odd sense of calm enveloped you. For the time being, he was the lesser of the many evils.

“Oh, ‘s you! Mar-”

The stinging sound of a gunshot, lulled into an ambient slumber with a silencer. Time slowed, and you swore you could see the bullet soaring through the air, about to collide with the skull of the man whose fate had been sealed. But a blink before you could bear witness to the impact, darkness overtook you, and you were embraced in an overwhelming sweetness, vision sealed with a resolved, mercilessly protective hand. You were spun in a macabre dance, now facing the gangster, breathing against the crook of his neck and focusing on the freezing cold jewellery that caressed your cheek. Nothing more than a sigh, a tainted soul escaping from the mouth of the drunkard, before you heard a thud of his body colliding with the cold concrete. 

You sincerely wished you could feel remorse, but all that you could identify in your body was an insatiable curiosity, and a perplexing connection of the societally horrific event with what had happened to your ex. So, that was how he had been disposed of, huh. The same damn signature. And he was most likely lying when he was trying to assure you that it was not the same man. His hand was too stable, heart was too calm, and the way in which he pressed his soft lips to your jaw, and once your sight was returned to you, your cheek, were all telltale signs that this was not the first time he had killed with you as his prime motivation.

“You’re awfully calm for someone who was ready to murder, darling.”

The words rang out in your head and the realisation hit you, cutting through the comforting fog that had settled over your psyche as you drifted in black irises. The bottle which you had picked out of the trash to serve as your weapon suddenly felt unimaginably heavy, and it began to slip.

“Now, now, we don’t need to cause any more of a mess…” gingerly, the bottle was taken from you, and clinked against the smoking gun as Seonghwa was more preoccupied with keeping your full attention on him. While you were still tame enough for him to manoeuvre, He returned the weapon under his jacket.

Dizzy, you swore you were within inches of delirium. Darting from one one part of his face to another, you soon spotted a tiny splatter of blood on his cheek, and lifted a trembling hand to caress it. Eyes wide, you watched as the crimson spread under your thumb and left a trail whilst you were wiping it away. Lips parted, you were locked in a soundless scream. This was not a joke. That man, no longer a man, a soon to be carcass, crow food, was dead. And without a doubt, Seonghwa was going to tell you that it was your doing. Turning slowly, you caught a glimpse of the aftermath, and the dark dots that now decorated Seonghwa’s side that had been the closest to the drunkard.

“Look at me, darling. Look at me.”

“But I, but he-”

“I said. Look at me.”

“But you kill-”

A crash resonated as Seonghwa threw the bottle against the opposite wall, the olive-coloured rainfall covering the dead body and rippling over the dumpsters. Knees buckling, you wanted to collapse next to it then and there, only to have a gloved hand force your face to be right against his.

“You are a lethal flower, darling. Shame this had to happen.”

“Shame?”

“You’re shaking. Did this man touch you?” with a concerned air, Seonghwa inquired, his breath hot against your skin. Discreetly, he began to step towards the exit of the alleyway.

“N-no… but-”

“Did he scare you?”

“Y-yes… a lot.”

“For fucks sake, these idiots have no self control, hurting my precious angel like this.”

Precious angel. You were his precious angel. So he did care, at least somewhat. You had a space, a chance to corrupt what was left of his heart. Your forehead was against his as you allowed him to guide you out of the cramped space, careful to sidestep when he told you, lifting one leg, the other when he whispered that you should do so. This felt right. He was back. He was here. He was ready to do anything for you. This was where you wanted him. While you were busy processing what had just unfolded and fading into your beloved manifestations, Seonghwa pulled you into an embrace and began to direct two of his men who had snuck in through the emergency exit and were awaiting instructions. After a couple of raises of the eyebrow, and one point towards the bag which you had abandoned, they began to tiptoe around the area, ready for a rapid spring cleaning.

Wherever he was taking you, you had no choice but to follow. Such was the rule. Even if you had other ideas and plans, now that Seonghwa was back, you had to fall into his rhythm, and figure out a new strategy that would not cause a dissonance. Your clouded mind was lulled by his low instruction. Slow down here, now heading out onto the street there… you were a puppet in his hold. You were… a criminal. Weren’t you? You froze just as the two of you approached a parked car, and judging by Seonghwa’s immediate instinct to reach into his pocket, you assumed it was his. No, you couldn’t. This was… you needed to go home. Conflicted, the hold you had on Seonghwa’s jacket loosened.

“Darling?”

“I… I need to go home.” his soft smile fell, replaced with a judgemental grimace. Retaining a fraction of decency, he refrained from shoving you against the vehicle, instead choosing to subject you to scrutiny.

“You are home.”

“Here?” you surveyed your surroundings, figuring out that you were outside Estelle, and luckily, there were no longer any stragglers who regularly tried to make it through into the venue past doors closing. The street was ghastly, located in one of the most dangerous parts of the metropolis housing anything from cheap alcohol and sex to designer drugs and assassins. Anything one could desire, they could find here. Was this really your home?

“Yes. With me.” Seonghwa was reeling you back. A click, and the car was unlocked. Keeping you within reach, he leaned to open the passenger door. You shook your head.

“No… no… I don’t want to be a-”

“Don’t want to be a what?” he insisted, and squeezed your upper arms, as if he was about to shake the answer out.

“A criminal.”

“The fuck?” 

“I am… look… I was… Again I was so ready to-” the man who was probably still in that alleyway, blood spilling like wine out of a glass that toppled over, occupied your vision, and you gawped at the bloodstain on Seonghwa’s cheek. 

“But you didn’t. You did not kill him.” Sighing, he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, not wishing to deal with a breakdown, far too attracted to you physically to care for what effect his expression of affection had.

“But I made you…”

“Oh baby, no you didn’t. I did it out of love for you. You had no part in this except being my angel. Darling, Y/N, come on…” picking his words carefully, he permeated your barriers, crawling into the expanse of your mind palace like a virus.

“I am no angel. The law literally says I committed crimes. I should not be here. I should never be here-”

Evidently this caring approach was not functional. You were simply melting into him and turning into a sappy mess, instead of the coldhearted bitch who he had spoken to in the club. Where were you? Where was the goddess who wanted nothing more but to hurt him? He had deconstructed you a little too much, it seemed, you needed a bit more venom in your system. Seonghwa snapped.

“You know what. You are right.”

“Huh?” still too dazed to answer properly, you hummed.

“Who do you think got you out of a jail sentence in the first place, huh?”

“I- I don’t… What?” eyes narrowing, Seonghwa peered into your soul. He needed you to wake up if he was going to give into his obsession.

“Talk to me. Take a guess. Do you really think that the judge was benevolent? Fuck… girl, you’re naive. That bastard passes his bank account around the courtroom, you really think he woke up one day and felt like being nice just because? Oh no… sweetheart. I got you out. You hear me? I did. Because like hell are you gonna be anybody else’s. Huh, you tried your best with that idiot rotting in the ground. Bet you screamed my name as he fucked you, right? Tell me, is that right? SPEAK, sweetheart, don’t piss me off.”

Noticing how you could not contain your tremors, he released his grip on your upper arms, only to position your hands so that they rested on his waist, while his cupped your face. What was supposed to be an intimate gesture felt like a stare down with a wild beast. His expression was that of a predator, pupils dilated so he could refresh the memories of every piece of you, while his lips curled into what you interpreted as a crooked, pitying smile.

If you did not know better, you would have believed that your love that was reflected in his dark orbs was actually his. But he was a twisted, terrifying man, who could only take. As such, most you could expect was his suffocating coddling, his treatment of you like you were of his design. His cooing as he peered at you and saw how you were putty under his touch. You hated him precisely because you knew you could never escape.

“Oh baby… my lovely little angel, look at you. Don’t you know that I would do anything to make you smile? Come on, you know that right?” he wiped a stray tear with his right hand, and you swore you caught a quiff of blood and gunpowder, blending with a hint of alcohol that was still on his breath from earlier, all to be washed away by that scent you always adored, vanilla, flowers, coffee. Seonghwa. You nodded, which seemed to provide relief for the man.

“And I will never let your pretty hands get dirty, okay? If you need somebody dead just say it my darling and I will do it. Me. You are my angel. And now, let me prove it to you, alright?”

Whatever noise had existed before was now but a soft buzz of a streetlamp. No rustling. Not a single droplet. Suspended in an intimate fog, you studied the criminal, the hardened killer, the bloodthirsty demon in front of you. The one who was so hellbent on getting you to follow him to the realm below, even though you had never left. It was simple. He led, you followed. He told you to jump, you jumped. That was all he wished for. And perhaps this was indeed your fate. Not to be rushing around in hospital corridors, nor to be collecting banknotes in a g-string. But to completely fall from grace for the embodiment of an apocalypse, who more than willingly closed the space between you to taste the lust you had been suppressing, relishing your shared sin.

Bang bang, that awful sound…

The wind styled your locks as Seonghwa sped deeper into the night, abandoning the artificial lighting of the underworld district. From bars and clubs, to sleepy neighbourhoods, and finally, the inspiring expanse of rolling hills and rocky slopes, he was taking you to a place where you would never be bothered nor controlled, yet one that gave you a view of the city that was so breathtaking, that it was easy to believe you could destroy it. Estelle would be smaller than ever, and your problems would be nothing more than a haze on the line of the horizon. The cliffside had been your spot when you were something of an item, with you always begging for Seonghwa to take you there, if not for the alone time, then at least for the striking skyline. How oddly romantic of him to pick the spot now.

Relaxing into the leather seat of the Rolls Royce convertible, a new addition to Seonghwa’s collection - as he had informed before starting the car, you tested the strength of the breeze by stretching your hand out of the window and letting it float. After a couple of tries, you finally got into the right pose for minimal resistance, and pretended that you were a bird, soaring, cageless. The glimmering dots of the city even further from you than now as you spread your little wings and lifted yourself towards freedom. In moments like these, you were happy to be able to enjoy the simplicities, and it was easier than ever to pretend that you were not the Y/N who had fallen so irreversibly for a beast, that to you even his lies sounded like the truth. And, of course, it was easy to imagine that Seonghwa himself was capable of feeling love.

He did not bother taking off his gloves nor, which was uncharacteristic of him, clearing the remnants of the execution off his face, as if it was a badge of honour. Interestingly, the more you observed the gangster, the more you got used to the new additions and even took them as complementing features. While he kept one hand on the steering wheel, he continuously seeked contact with you, the other gripping your thigh as if to make sure that you were still there in the car with him and were not a hallucination. The exhilarating velocity at which the car dashed past trees, somnolent villas and road signs was barely letting you catch your breath due to Seonghwa choosing to keep the roof off, and so to stabilise yourself you returned the gesture. The smirk into which his lips curled was not quite as threatening as it had appeared before, however his aggressive slam on the accelerator made you start praying. What would the family that had not yet disowned you think, if they were to find you in a crashed car with one of the most notorious men in the region? You chuckled; they would probably agree that at least the last thing you saw was beauty himself.

Finally, you approached the secluded location, and fortunately, it was as abandoned as ever. Grinding to a halt on a gravelly clearing, beyond which were two lines of wooden fences that had been set up at the very edge of the small cliff, Seonghwa set the car into parking, cranked the handbrake and turned off the ignition. A deafening silence overtook you as you looked up at the night sky, twinkling stars reminding you of the collection of silver that hung around the enigmatic fiend’s neck and on his left ear. In the absence of machinery, you could feel his presence even more acutely, and the anticipation for what he undoubtedly had planned was reducing the supposed coolness of the hour into a mere deception. Your body was burning up, and as Seonghwa’s hand moved higher and higher until it was teasing you by playing with the drawstrings of your tracksuit bottoms you had to consciously remind yourself to breathe.

You stared out at the metropolis through the windshield, registering your beloved criminal’s movements towards you. As you studied the glinting whites, reds and yellows that formed the urban starscape, you could not help but ponder how, out of all the millions of people, in this architectural phenomenon that seemed to stretch on forever, on a day when you were not even supposed to be where you had ended up being, you had run into none other than Park Seonghwa. And as fate would have it, you were naive enough to let him take everything from you. And being the loved up, hypnotised fool that you were, you thanked him for the misery in which you found yourself, because at least he made you feel. With him you were a disaster, but you saw life in colour. With him it was impossible to tell whether there would be a tomorrow, but you could exist in an exuberant today. With him, the everchanging palette of emotion had a canvas to paint on. And tonight, you were going to let the masterpiece create itself.

“Take the gloves off if you want to touch me so badly.” you derided him for his eagerness, though did not see any dampening to it. On the contrary, he appeared to be more drawn to you than ever, mumbling a ‘sure thing, darling’ as he unbuttoned the leather, and slid the pair off his hands with his canines to speed up the process. The gloves found a home in the compartment underneath the wheel, to join the harness and pistol that he had stashed away there.

“Good?” he asked, giving you a mischievous grin.

“Good.” no more words were needed for him to pull you towards him, and lock your lips together in a feverish, thrilling kiss.

Oh, how you missed this. How you missed the mind-numbing sensation of his hand on the back of your neck, how soft his lips were compared to his sharp and intimidatingly stunning appearance. You moved in a familiar rhythm, having recognised one another’s alluring presence and only wanting more with each passing second. Frustrated with the remaining distance, Seonghwa growled into you and dragged you by your top; understanding his goal, you rose from your seat and promptly were settled on his lap, grinding against his growing erection that was concealed by too many layers of clothing for your liking.

Brushing his hair back, lightly tugging on it as you reached the ends, you were giving yourself up to the scalding hot hellfire. Your memory did not fail you: the action elicited a groan, and the kiss was further deepened until your lungs were screaming for oxygen. Pulling away, you gasped, only to be alerted by a stinging pain on your cheek, and a hostile grimace on the man, whose hand was hovering next to your jawline.

“Did I say you could pull away?”

“And since when are you so damn needy?” You challenged, slapping away the hand that had just collided with you, and placing yours on his exposed throat, not bothering to ease into the action as you pushed your digits into the sensitive skin, restricting his airflow and preventing him from taunting you with a mocking retort.

You continued to rock your hips forward, sensing your own arousal climbing further and further amidst the enjoyment of the man’s temporary obedience. You watched his eyes roll back momentarily, and he attempted to tilt his head towards you and steal your lips, only for you to wriggle in his lap until you were completely out of his reach, still holding his neck.

Seonghwa was seeing stars, and yet amongst them you still shined the brightest. There you were. This was who he was searching for. When he was at his limit, and could no longer withstand the restraint, he rapidly reached for your wrist and yanked your arm away, making you yelp. To prevent you from attempting anything similar, he used his hands as cuffs to keep you under his control, and pulled you to him. Giving you a smirk corrupted by lust, he kissed you again, only this time letting his long tongue part your mouth, and swirl itself around.

Wanton sounds filled your mind and preoccupied your ears as you parted, strings of saliva connecting you. Apparently dissatisfied, Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, and gripped your waist. Sitting up, he mumbled ‘back seat’ and stumbled out of the car with you wrapped around him. In seconds, you were lying on the couch-like leather, Seonghwa above you as he shifted his attention to your neck, leaving trails of spit, and nipping at the skin until he saw the beloved bruising begin to show. Sucking above the jugular vein, he imagined himself tearing you apart then and there. Destroying you. But the way in which your hands swiftly moved to unbutton his shirt was too enticing to not commend.

“Look who is needy now.” he teased, and reached for the zipper on your hoodie, unable to contain a pleased sigh as he saw that you had not changed out of the white dancewear. As soon as the hoodie was off, and flying in the direction of the steering wheel, he let himself devour the tainted goddess that you were.

Trailing over the fabric, he did not wish to take it off, the image of you around the pole still fresh in his mind and amplifying his lust. His lips made contact with your chest as he added more love bites to his abstract design.

“You drove me crazy earlier tonight with those moves of yours. How could you even consider anything else when you have a body made to sin?”

“I think you are batshit by default.”

“Do you want me to punish you again?” he threatened, discontented when it had no effect on you as you contended. 

“By what, hitting me? Two can play that game-” as soon as he saw your hand flying towards him, he caught it and forced it down by you, and chuckled.

“Be a good girl and you’ll come.”

“Big deal.”

“Says the whore who was grinding against me.”

He shifted to untie your sweats, and dragged the material down to reveal your matching white g-string, stopping for a second before moving to take it off too. The bra was going to be enough for him.

“Says the reprobate with a hardon from the bare minimum.”

He did not respond, too enraptured by the sight before him. Your form, laid out and so familiar, and yet, the newfound resolve and the bite in your words was boundlessly more attractive than the mellow nurse in training that he had fucked before. The blaze that had festered and grown within you, painting your psyche and very essence in the soot of detestation was a guiding light to him, a star in the pitch black that he gravitated towards, and wished to take over. Your strength and determination spurred him on and inspired him to make you reach the point of no return. How? He was yet to decide. But that came after he had his fill of your intoxicating body.

“Damn, Y/N, do I even need to get you ready for me? You’re so fucking wet-” he remarked, running a hand over your pussy, with it immediately receiving a dose of your slick.

“Guess you don’t.” you countered, attempting to shut your legs together, but to no avail as your brattiness only encouraged him.

“You know what. I am in a giving mood. A changed man. Ready to commit some good deeds.” he announced to you in a low, borderline monstrous tone as Seonghwa pulled you by your ankles closer to him and began to work at your arousal.

After a slow start, where he languidly circled your nub until you gave out a whine, the man dedicated himself wholly, and soon enough, you were sinking into a sensual paradise. The two digits pumped into you, while with his other hand Seonghwa was stimulating your sensitive clit relentlessly, rubbing the erect nub until you were barely able to produce any sound at all. Pressing his thumb right against its tip, he curled his fingers and beckoned you closer to a climax, stopping the motions, he kept his hand inside as he replaced the finger that was dominating your clit with another thumb, and instead took to rapidly building you up with practised, fast flicks, higher, higher, just as you were about to-

Your hips jerked up, only to be met with a total emptiness as you tried desperately to coax Seonghwa into giving you your orgasm, to which he only responded with a click of his tongue, and a demonstrative sucking of his digits as you watched him with a glazed over expression.

“You rude, unbearable menace.”

“Awh, is my precious angel angry that I did not give you what you wanted?” he asked, giving his cock a couple of pumps before making a circular motion with his index finger and ordering you.

“On your hands and knees, like the bitch you are.” immediately, you obliged, unable to contain yourself after he had denied you what you had been seeking, with that devilish grin suggesting just how much the notion had excited him. Finally, he undid his belt and trousers, letting his aching length spring free, a hiss escaping Seonghwa as the cool air hit it.

Finding your slick-coated pussy with the tip of his cock, he teased you, repeatedly moving it back and forth between your folds. When you let out a whine, rocking your ass side to side in an attempt to deliver your need for more friction, Seonghwa merely chuckled and pushed forward, keeping his member flush against your sex, but not offering any relief. Your wetness coated him as he continued the torturous act, pausing to flick your clit and snicker at just how desperate you had become for his dick.

“Tell me if you want it.” Seonghwa wanted to hear you beg, or sigh, or anything else to suggest that you were fully pliable, but what had come out of your dirty mouth surpassed all his wishes.

“You want this pussy more than I want you, judging by how fucking hard your cock is, Hwa.”

Without as much as a warning, he put an end to the foreplay and slammed his hips against yours, sinking deep inside and groaning at the warm invitation of your walls. As he heard you yell out, he mercilessly glided back until only his tip was between your labia, only to thrust and bottom out once more. And again. And again. Just as he had remembered from the nights he had you before, this left you trembling, and soon enough your body was pleading for more, to which he happily obliged, smacking you on the ass and speeding up.

The feeling of you spasming around him and the feeble moans were an unrivalled art. He positioned one hand to hook around you and held it against the area right below your belly, biting his lip as he felt his dick pushing deep inside you, the bulge detectable by his palm. Closing his eyes, Seonghwa focused on this sensation, thereby slowing down ever so slightly, and moving to hit the spot that accelerated the growth of the knot in your tightening core. 

“A-ah… Seong… hwa…” you mewled into each stroke, hazy and unable to form anything more than nonsensical babble.

“That’s right, darling, only I can make you feel this good.”

Seonghwa was despicable, because he knew exactly how to make you lose your mind and fall apart under him and forget that you ever hated him at all, driven only by a carnal passion. Having had enough practice to study you, you were at his mercy as he provided the exact fullness that you had been desiring for so long, the exact firm thrusts that were bringing you closer and closer to a total fall, and the honey-laden voice that had you turning even weaker.

“My- darling-”

Your climax came down on you hard and fast, and you crumbled into the shaking that washed over you, forehead almost connecting with the back of the seats if not for the fistful of your tresses that Seonghwa had grabbed. Not letting you ride out your high, he quickened his pace and each thrust was making your vision darken and your moans turn into pathetic wails, drowned out by the lewd slapping of skin against skin that was lubricated by your orgasm. Using you as a fucktoy, he chased his own high and pushed you into an abyss of violent pleasure, ceasing to abuse your cunt only when he deemed it necessary for himself.

He slid his cock out of your pulsating sex, dragging it over your clit before ushering you to kneel before him. Movements still too slow and lagging, Seonghwa proceeded to guide one leg, then another down, so that you were ready for him. Lifting your chin, he he peered into your hazy orbs and commanded:

“Open.”

As you slackened your jaw and opened your mouth wide in obedience, he spat into it, and upon positioning one of his hands at the back of your head and the other at the base of his member, he slid into the warmth, sighing as your tongue glided along his throbbing length, as if encouraging him to go deeper until his tip hit the very limit and bumped against the back of your throat. You struggled to suppress your gag reflex, but the salaciousness of the combination of yours and his spit and your orgasm dribbling around his cock as you began to bob your head was driving Seonghwa to the brink of insanity, and you desperately wanted to see him unravel entirely.

“Ah… that’s it. My good cock slut. This mouth is built… for me.”

You allowed him to choke you as he fucked your throat with abandon, submitting to the oncoming waves of his orgasm. Clawing at his thighs you seeked balance, to which he responded by pushing you even closer, earning a muted yelp. The vibration drove him over the edge as he pumped himself inside you only a few more times, before collapsing into a series of staggered bucks of the hips and a muttering of filthy curses.

“Swallow darling, I bet you were dreaming of this- ah, fuck-” he exclaimed. 

He threw his head back as you centred yourself, trying to relax into how his hand that was tangled in your hair kept you so close that your nose was pressed against his pubic bone, though it proved to be an impossible challenge. In an effort to overcome the pain that spread over your jaw as Seonghwa refused to let go of you, you blinked away the moisture in your eyes and focused on the sensation of the hot, salty cum coating and running down the back of your throat. 

When he finally released you from his hold and let you fall onto the floor of the car, you sputtered and gasped for air, vision having grown blurry. While he did not comfort you, nor praise you for how well you had taken him, even though judging from his state you could make your own conclusions about the performance, this roughness felt more real, more honest than the intimacy you had shared before. You licked the corners of your mouth, collecting the remnants of his cum and spit, and crawled up onto the leather seating to be met with open arms, a gesture which, in your exhaustion, you accepted.

Captured in a lazy embrace you admired the universe that surrounded you. The dawn was imminent, with some of the more enthusiastic birds already greeting you with their songs and the distant rumble of the city beginning to pick up, and yet none of this felt real. It was like you were floating in the air, tethered to the mortal realm only by the man beside you. You had taken the liberty of snatching Seonghwa’s suit jacket, considering that the outerwear you had been wearing had been unceremoniously discarded and thrown into the driver leg space, outside of your immediate reach. 

You pondered what was going to happen after this broken reunion, that had been as always, orchestrated by the evil mastermind with a pretty face, currently resting on the seats, one arm over the door, the other on the back rest, head tilted to the sky. When you inspected one of the dark spots on the right sleeve of the jacket, you had come to realise that the dead man, who you had left behind to chase your pleasure, had, amidst his departure from the living, was trying to greet Seonghwa. Using his gang name, no less. You wanted to laugh until tears would be streaming down your face. Double over and, hands hitting your thighs, fail to compose yourself and continue laughing at just how ignorant you were. Fooled once again. Of course that scene had been this criminal’s doing. How else could anything ever happen to you if not with Seonghwa’s meddling? This overly involved, human embodiment of jeopardy who you had voluntarily invited in to share space and time, so elegant as he was devoid of movement, counting stars in the sky, the unbuttoned white shirt gracing his figure like a heavenly robe. It was a shame that you had to have chosen him to glorify, especially since he fit the role well enough to fit into your delusions.

As you sat upright, only to put your elbows on your knees and lean to catch your head in your hands, you mused whether you truly despised this man or not. It was almost habitual, routinely, to curse his name again, and again until it was nothing but an incoherent collection of syllables. It was your shield and clarity, your comprehension of the incorrigible man who, come the opportunity, would shoot you down the same way that he did to hundreds, if not thousands of others. It was heartbreaking, gut-wrenching, but unfortunately true. In his eyes the individuals with families, friends, hopes and dreams, hell, even those with nothing at all, were nothing but sacks of bone and blood that he could scare into submission, or drain if they disobeyed. Such were his methods. Methods that you had looked the other way from, making yourself believe that you were above that amateur, unjust purgatory. No matter how much of you Seonghwa received as an offering, it was never going to be enough. The seven deadly sins were a bucket list for him, and one in which he would outshine every reckless criminal. He was systematic, calculating, and would not hesitate to remove a variable that no longer served him.

You were serene, a ghost of a smile dancing on your lips. Slowly, you blinked, immersing yourself in the sensation of the bites, the kisses that the man you had once felt something for gifted you. Sultry tattoos that you would wear with the pride of a person who had defeated themselves, come to terms with, and learnt to coexist with inner turmoil. Nothing short of a miracle. If this hell were to continue, then you would simply have to adapt to live with the ebbs and flows of a turbulent tide. Hilarious, how you were treating Seonghwa as if he was a terminal disease that you had to live with, but the analogy was comforting. Until the moment when you would receive a bullet between your brows, you would strive to live fully, and remain indifferent. As much as you had wanted to ‘get the final word’, you had come to realise that all you had to say had been said, and he was no longer worth your time. Looking at the horizon, you spotted the sun beginning to stir under its heavy blankets, getting ready to rise.

“You thought about me, didn’t you?” Seonghwa’s voice broke your peace, and you turned to him, regarding his bewitching demeanour with a tired onceover.

“Hm?”

“You were thinking about me, in that alley way. Weren’t you?” so, he had realised now, too. However, you were not bothered to continue this discourse. Fascinating how the mind of even the most evil of men could get fixated on the simple things like a random good-for-nothing becoming a gourmet meal for maggots.

“I am not sure why or how that matters.”

“Would you kindly get the gun for me?” Now that piqued your interest, so you obliged, and reached over the front seats, aware of how your ass was on full display for Seonghwa though he had just seen you in even more lewd tones. After a couple of tries, the hand gun was in your hands, and hooking it by the trigger guard, you tried to pass it to its owner. To your surprise, he refused and you remained standing in your perplexion.

“What are you getting at?”

“You definitely thought about me. As a matter of fact you were thinking about doing this for a long time.” you could not deny that, and thus remained silent, “Remember how I taught you to fire a gun?” the man continued, and you nodded along.

“That I do, but again. Not sure how it applies.” you crossed your arms, the pistol swinging ever so slightly from your index finger.

“Don’t you want to fulfil your dream, darling?” he raised an eyebrow and grinned.

Another game. Another dare. Another attempt at making you feel something when you had no more emotions to spare. You were spent. For the first time since you had first come to be acquainted with Park Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Hwa, Mars, you saw a stranger. A passing face who you would regard, but most importantly, go on your merry way and never wish to see again. No more yearning, nor begging. He was cute when he thought he was in control. You chuckled, earning a questioning gaze from the ghost of your past.

“What is so amusing, my dear Y/N? So delighted that you can barely contain yourself?”

Oh, if only he knew. You steadied your breathing, and through half-lidded eyes, took in the man’s form that you had once worshipped. Everything had finally clicked, and unknowingly, the symphony in your mind was now fully composed, all to Seonghwa’s rhythm. Your magnum opus, by the visitation of a brutal muse, completed. With the softness of a stalking cat, you bent forward and came face to face with this boy, and with both hands, pressed the gun to his bare chest, smiling languidly as it collided with the necklaces to make a noteless tune. Seonghwa’s eyes widened as he followed your ascension back to now leaning against the front seat further from him, stifling a laugh of his own as he realised your intentions. The world held its breath as you dispelled your nightmare, and, light-hearted, like you were discussing daily happenings or the weather, asked him:

“You said you’d keep my hands clean, right?”

“Yes.” breathless, he whispered.

“You said you would kill anyone for me, right?” you continued sweetly, studying how Seonghwa checked the magazine and clicked the hammer with practised motions, appearing almost impressed.

“Yes.”

“Do anything to make me smile?” you tested, and he conceded, brushing a hand over the barrel, and looking up to memorise your every detail.

“Yes.”

“Then prove it. And make me smile. One last time.”

You uttered, admiring how his perfect skin, his gorgeous eyes, his dark soul glowed, caught ablaze in the rays of the rising sun.

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

[panelshowsource]

i did a speedrun through backstage with katherine ryan today (i added it to drive!! i'll try to get better rips soon) — and what an interesting concept! personally i never get tired of the half-scripted reality thang à la meet the richardsons, and one of my favourite things ever is comics just...hanging out... the natural bantz are the best! so her bringing these people all together and seeing/hearing a little of their processes backstage, and them just generally catching up and hyping up each other's work, was super sweet! take a shot every time someone went "you smashed it mate" awww overall cute show!

random thoughts while watching

jimmy and katherine's friendship is really sweet and probably always will be, and it's sweet how much all the other comics seem to really admire him (everyone always being like "jimmy you're so lovely irl and i bet you don't even want people to know!! but i know how lovely you are!! you can fool them but you can't fool me haha!!" even tho no one is being fooled we literally all know how nice jimmy is)

the way they used those insert shots of frankie boyle going down on a croissant... i should not have found that as funny as i did

judi and ivo are fucking hilarious together and remind me a lot of alan and romesh — unhinged + hanging-on-by-a-thread is an amazing combo. she really brings out a sunshiney side of him

katherine refusing to properly roast sara and jo <3

geoff norcott being like "i've been at a gay club with tom allen and he's a top" like no other context whatsoever?? like?? wtf is the story there, right-wing lowkey douche with tom at the club????? i need to hear more about this

michelle de swarte most beautiful woman alive......... i remember watching the duchess wanting katherine to end up with her lol

rosie jones is SUUUCH A MENACE LMAOOO and the fact she uses her free time trying to get her friends cancelled by pretending they pushed her down LMAOOO (as nish said, "[cackle] one of the worst human beings who has ever lived") she is HYSTERICAL

over the past five years i have seen joel dommett lactate more than i have seen my own parents

watching katherine, jimmy, sue perkins, nish, and judi together made me think...like...fuck...this would have been an amazing taskmaster lineup fr. they are all such ridiculous humans

rosie hitting on sue is so valid

JIMMY JUST GETTING HIS FEET OUT?? ("jimmy this is gonna go STRAIGHT on wikifeet!" nish PLEASE) and honestly judi kinda flirting with jimmy "you are so trim" "you are so strong" "you have nice feet" ?? lmfao judi girl ur killing me

[lillifaba]

Here's why I'm still unimpressed with the Wicked movie trailer

A while ago I made a post explaining my thoughts on the Wicked teaser trailer. A lot of it was mostly negative due to the poor CGI, acting, lines etc... Well the official trailer dropped and I've got some new thoughts both good and bad. This is going to be way longer than my last post because I'm going to go into detail about why I think this movie won't live up to the musical by comparing it to other movies and musicals. I'll also be talking about some scenes from the featurette.

THIS IS JUST MY OPINION SO FAR ON WHAT WE SEE IF YOU LIKE THE TRAILER OR LIKE ANY OF THE ACTORS THEN DON'T GET YOUR PANTIES IN A TWIST MY WORD ISN'T GOSPEL NOR IS IT MY FINAL OPINION ON THE MOVIE.

Starting off with things I liked:

I'm actually starting to warm up to Cynthia as Elphaba. In my last post I argued I didn't entirely see her as Elphaba mainly because it was obvious she's a thirty seven year old playing an eighteen year old. While I still believe she doesn't pass for younger Elphie and her simple "I am" comeback is weak, hearing more of her lines and performance is actually on point with Elphaba's character. I wouldn't be against her revisiting Elphaba on stage after the movie. Bottom line: I think she's a great singer and am happy a fellow WOC is playing Elphie.

Holy shit that witch cackle gave me goosebumps. It might be the editing and sound in the trailer that makes me feel that way so we'll have to see when it happens in the movie.

Michelle Yeoh???? Like hello? Although she seems more toned down compared to the campy personality MM has on stage, she plays the role of the evil villain quite well. (I'm sad she had to stop using her beautiful Malaysian accent ;_; I hope it was by her choice and not by the choice of the executives.)

Some set designs look quite nice. I'm particularly curious about the scene where The Wizard is dancing around a full size diorama of Oz.

The effects of the grimmerie are quite neat. I despise the new shape of the book, but I think it's cool how instead of going for some floating colorful lights to pass as "look magic oooo", they're going for the spells to be coming out of the pages. Very unique.

And now, on to the negative. This is where I'll be comparing some of the shots and scenes of the trailer to other movies and parts of the musical.

I hate hate hate the CGI. You don't understand I absoultely for forever deeply truly LOATHE the CGI. It cheapens the movie and all that talk and show about how they built up the sets and rainbows showing over their productions goes all out the window when I see those flying monkeys.

Let's talk good CGI vs rushed CGI.

First off I do not blame the VFX artists for this movie looking the way it does so far. VFX artists are one of the most overworked and underpaid workers in the film industry who have to pump out content in a short amount of time. It is also not their fault that audiences are tired of seeing overdone CGI movies every month. It's part of the reason why the Wicked teaser trailer got so much hate when it came out (on top of Ari/🧽, reactionary bros, etc...)

The CGI (mostly in the Emerald City) looks AI generated. Most of my issues with it come from the effects looking poorly rendered. Elphaba flying looks obviously fake. I know they recently touched up some of these scenes but honestly it doesn't make a difference to me at all in quality.

If John Chu and the team behind this movie really cared about this like they insist they do, it wouldn't hurt to take time with the effects. When you do so, you get mind blowing results like this:

Onto other effects: The flying monkeys don't look great. They look poorly rendered along with the rest of the effects. For that I wish they would've stuck to practical effects like Pan's Labyrinth did or literally any character Doug Jones plays like down below.

Heck, even the musical does a better job:

I seriously encourage you to watch B T S footage of Wicked to see how insane and amazing this effect is. Once you see it, you'll realize just how bad the movie fucked up on this.

Bottom line: movies that take their time with CGI effects and utilize other methods like practical effects before leaving everything up to post have better results than your run of the mill CGI Marvel or DC blockbuster.

I'm still not feeling Arianna as Glinda. Before you fans eat me up alive I need to say again I don't hate her and even like some of the stuff she puts out there. This critique is not a reflection on who she is as a person because I don't know her personally. With that out of the way I still cannot stand her Glinda impression. "But Lilli!" You say. "You said you didn't like Ari as Glinda because she's not giving Glinda but she's doing Glinda's voice!" And I stand by that. She's not giving Glinda. She's giving Kristen Chenoweth. You might think that's the whole point of playing Glinda but let me ask you; When you watch Megan Hilty as Glinda, did you think she was imitating KC to the bone? What about Kendra Kassebaum? Ginna Claire Mason or McKenzie Kurtz? Did you think KC was imitating Billie Burke? Or were all of them doing their own interpretations of Glinda that made the character unique to themselves and not a copycat version of the original? Because I argue that's what makes every Glinda special and unique from the previous actress who played her. Doing a copycat rendition of KC makes me believe you have no faith in yourself as an actor and you are incapable of playing character that's been done before without having to copy the source material beat for beat. Because of this, I still cannot seperate Ari the pop star from Glinda The Good.

This point has less to do with Ari as Glinda in the movie and more as what she's doing to promote the movie. I have no idea where else to rant about it but here. I hate hate HATE how Arianna is making this movie and Glinda her ENTIRE personality. She acts like she's part of this fandom yet never interacts with anyone in it (unless its directly involves her) and it all feels so... artificial and money grabbing. Someone please tell me I'm not alone. Like girl please call me when you read and write fanfic on AO3 and get three kudos on your multichap fic lol.

DTL: Again I ask, WHY IS THIS MOVIE SO DARK? DTL is meant to be in a ballroom with tons of bright lights and projections. This ballroom looks so dark and depressing. I'm not thinking "let's dance because dust is what we come to" I'm thinking "turn me into dust already." When I saw Elphaba putting that hat on in the teaser trailer, I thought that was a scene in defying gravity. John Chu failed this scene which makes me angry because I this is my favorite scene in the musical.

Adding on to DTL, we have to talk about the scene where Elphaba and Glinda establish their friendship. If you know this scene in the musical (which duh) you'll know that this is where Glinda realizes that she did a horrible thing to Elphie and wants to make things right, even if it means putting her reputation in the gutter in front of her friends. I know this is an edited trailer so we won't know for sure how the full scene plays out in the final movie, but Glinda immediately going for a hug before they start dancing threw me off guard. At this point, they still aren't best friends because Elphaba doesn't realize that Glinda is sorry for what she did, their relationship is only now starting to build up. Let me ask you, what do you think makes a scene more impactful? Glinda hesitantly and nervously walking up to interupt Elphaba doing a solo dance and then cutting in to make her feel less alone, which eventually leads to all while making them ease up around each other as the song and dance progresses OR Glinda rushing into a bear hug with Elphaba before they even establish them making amends on the dance floor? One seems like a slow burn that tugs at your heartstrings while the other feels like a cheap attempt to get some kind of emotional response from the audience? (Then again not sure how this scene will play in movie but it's not looking good right now)

Final point, why is Elphaba crying during this scene? I get she's just been put through public humiliation and is just now getting an act of kindness from someone but don't you think it's too soon to show her in such a vulnerable position? One of the things about Elphaba in both the musical and books is that she's built a wall of apathy around her because she's been judged her whole life and doesn't care how other people percive her. We don't see her breakdown in the musical until Nessa's death because she's been forced to stay strong her entire life. Maybe at the earliest, we'll see her tear up during defying gravity but I'd argue that's a part of the actress playing her and not the character herself.

I hate how this trailer has been edited to make Arianna look like the protagonist. I get she's bringing in a large audience, but she's playing the secondary character, not the main one. It just pisses me that the protagonist (who is a WOC) has to be in the shadow of the white woman. It almost makes me believe they're doing it because they're more worried people would be offended at the prospect of a POC being a leading role.

The main actors still look way too mature to be playing their characters. I spoke about this already. I don't buy any of these adults (with the exception of Marissa Bode) as college freshmen.

Still hate that riff at the end of defying gravity and that after all the backlash, they're still going with it. I also can't believe some of you are defending it to the death and acting like Cynthia Fucking Erivo can't do a better take than what she gave. (Yes, I know every Elphaba does a different take on the riff and we all have our favorite ones but I'm going to say something that is controversial yet brave: Not every riff that every Elphaba does is great. Some of them are range from underwhelming to straight up bad) Here's a reddit post I found that better explains my gripe with the riff since I'm bad at explaining musical terms:

Costume and makeup design is still atrocious. I'm sorry, but the low effort looking costumes cannot hold up to the extravagance and camp the stage has. They should've brought Susan Hilferty back. Look at Elphaba's act 2 dress and the dress movie Elphaba wears and tell me you're not disappointed.

Adding on, why does everything look modern, including the makeup? Arianna using her brand of makeup in the movie doesn't impress me when she's using a modern day mascara wand over her wispy falsies in a 1900's inspired society when she should be using one of these:

Like... come on? Can you imagine a scene of Glinda doing her makeup while she's ranting to Elphaba about how men (except for darling Fifi of course <3) are so entitled and disrespectful and in the middle of her sentence, she just SPITS on her mascara cake, scrubs the brush like she's scrubbing the floor and does her lashes? Iconic honestly.

Adding on to the makeup looking modernized, I'm not a fan of Elphaba's modernized makeup either. It could be the deaging filter they added on everyone older than thirty but one thing that stood out to me is they used 90's era lip liner on her. I'm much aware if you're darker skinned, you will often times need to use a liner in order to blend in parts around your mouth that are darker in comparison to your lips. Counterpoint however:

They could've easily used a dark lipstick post-Popular like they already do. The 1900's era mostly used a single shade of lip color anyways. And no, I don't want to hear from any of you how none of this matters because Oz is an advanced society or some half assed excuse why it's totally okay they didn't care about the miniscule details while they cared about the number of tulips used in Munchkinland for NMTW. (also note: Oz was considered an advanced society FOR THE TIME IT WAS CREATED. Meaning they weren't envisioning the future items we have now like a mascara wand) If they allowed Arianna to use her own brand of makeup for the movie, they could've allowed an expert on BW's makeup history on set for their main protagonist.

Set design. I've got to say, while some of the sets are impressive, they really don't fit into Wicked or Oz. I mostly blame CGI and lighting, but even then, it can't hold up to the simple, yet brightly colored sets we see on stage. Shiz looks like something out of Hogwarts, which nearly every fantasy academia story looks like these days. Can we please have something original for once?

What I would've enjoyed seeing the movie do is something similar to Melanine Martinez's K-12. They were working on one location on a smaller budget, yet it looks better than the dimly lit and CGI sets we're seeing.

Obviously I'm not saying Wicked should look EXACTLY like K-12 because they have completely different themes and genres, but my point is good lighting, original set designs and color correcting can take you a long way. Wicked is deserving of having the same whimsy look that the WOZ movie had, while still having dark parts where needed.

Some more examples of good use of lighting during dark scenes in movies:

Continuing from not being a fan of the sets, I'm FUMING at the location of Fiyero and Elphaba freeing the lion cub. Why is it in a dark dreary forest?????? Did John Chu mix up the locations between INTG and ALAYM???? The lion cub scene takes place in the poppy field, with a soft orange pinkish lighting that creates a romantic atmosphere and establishes the growing romance between Fiyero and Elphaba (<3) This forest looks too erie and mystical, which should've been used for act 2.

Another hot take: I think the tulip field in Munchkinland looks completely unnecessary. I literally do not care if they planted thousands of rows of them. They look CGI'd because nearly everything in this movie is CGI.

Now onto some things I'm confused about.

God I was so looking forward to Peter Dinklage as the voice for Dr. Dillamond,but from what I heard of his voice acting so far, it just sounds... underwhelming. But I can't complain too much because at least it's not James Corden. I still believe in Peter and hope he will pull through.

Why did they feel the need to change the shape of the grimmerie? It was fine the way it was!

Adding to Dr. D, I'm not sure if I like his new design. I'm guessing they're taking inspiration from the book but if we're discussing live action, I really prefer makeup effects over CGI. One of the things I liked about the Animals in Wicked and in Cats the Musical is they find a perfect balance between blending human features and animal species without it going into the uncanny valley.

I feel underwhelmed by Jeff Goldbulm's acting as The Wizard :( I can't complain too much because he kinda-

On a final note: I think this movie just cannot and will not match up to the excellence of the musical. Will it be a good movie? I don't know yet. I'll still see it in theaters and will give my thoughts.

While brainstorming my thoughts for this trailer, I've really been thinking about why I hate what I'm seeing so far while I enjoy other interpretations of Wicked, especially when it comes to costumes. Then I realized something.

I love non-replica productions of Wicked... So why don't I like the design of this movie?

Part two of my take COMING THANKSGIVING 2025

Not really, give me like a week or two.

[vadertyrannus]

Zendaya's MJ will definitely return in the second MCU Spider-Man Trilogy

Ever since the ending of Spider-Man: No Way Home, people have wondered whether MJ (played by Zendaya) will return in the next trilogy, and for those who know she will, whether she should.

I'm making this post to not only prove that yes, she will, but also debunk common arguments against her returning.

Foreshadowing in the movie

MJ's return is directly foreshadowed quite a few times in No Way Home.

"If you don’t, I’m just gonna figure it out. I’ve done it before, I can do it again."

MJ tells Peter she loves him. Then Peter is about to tell her he loves her too, but MJ interrupts him, telling him to wait until he sees her again. If this was the end of their arc, the writers wouldn't leave this thread open. You can't set up something and have no payoff.

The way MJ looks at and acts around Peter in the pastry shop scene. She has that same look in her eyes that she always has when she looks at Peter (probably a symptom of Zendaya loving Tom Holland in real life, but still). The way she smiles, brushes her hair, is nervous around him while at the same time open (being willing to talk about going to MIT) seems to indicate that MJ is naturally comfortable with him and maybe even has a crush on him.

And finally, right here, which is by far the most obvious example and the nail in the coffin.

The final shot of the scene is MJ having a lingering sense of recognition, and this is specifically pointed out in the script. Very, very blatant foreshadowing. So much so that I find it so weird that so many people seem to miss it.

It's as she said, "If you don't, I'm just gonna figure it out."

If this was her final scene, this scene would have much more finality. It wouldn’t end holding on MJ, but rather Peter leaving. This is basic cinematic language.

The final shot of a scene is always the most important, because it’s the last impression it leaves on you. And here, they chose to emphasize MJ recognizing Peter the most.

All of this is clear set up for MJ remembering Peter and the two eventually rekindling their relationship.

MJ is Peter's true love

The fact is, MJ needs to come back. It's inevitable. Expecting MJ to actually be gone is like expecting Spider-Man to have stayed dead after Infinity War.

It's very clear watching both Far From Home and No Way Home, both of which focus a lot on their relationship, that Michelle Jones is Peter Parker’s endgame love interest and an incredibly important character to this iteration of Spider-Man.

I plan on making a separate post later going into more detail, but it's important enough to shortly elaborate on here.

Peter and MJ are truly in love with each other and meant to be together. They’re perfect for one another, have amazing chemistry, love each other to no bounds, and support each other every step of the way.

Peter always puts MJ's well-being before his own, and MJ is so loyal she'll bring a mace to help Peter fight killer drones, and refuses to leave his side when facing 5 villains. And I mean she literally won't leave his side; like, she wants to be right there with him, even when it's that dangerous, because she's that brave and she cares about him that much.

Peter and MJ are alike and while also complimenting each other in all the right ways. MJ is as soft, sweet, caring, strong, intelligent and loyal as Peter. At the same time, MJ’s introverted, collected and pragmatic self compliments Peter’s more extroverted, energetic, and idealistic self perfectly, creating a symbiosis between them.

They bring out the best in each other. Because of Peter, MJ is able to come out of her shell and be vulnerable (her arc in Far From Home). And in the same way Peter supports and brings out the best in MJ, MJ encourages and supports Peter when he needs it to most by always being there for him, being level-headed and comforting in crisis situations.

Their kiss in No Way Home perfectly conveys the image of two true lovers, with the way their bodies create a heart shape and the contrast created by the sun in the background.

Peter and MJ are bound together.

Both Far From Home and No Way Home dedicate a lot to the Peter and MJ relationship, and during the promotion of both Far From Home and No Way Home, images of them were used constantly to advertise the movie, reinforcing that Peter and MJ are ultimately the heart and soul of those two movies.

And even though MJ didn't have much screen time in Homecoming, she was emphasized a lot in the promos and almost every scene with her foreshadows her relationship with Peter in some way. Zendaya's MJ is essential to MCU Spider-Man.

Her not returning would also be a disservice to her character. MJ is her own person with her own agency and desires. The MCU Spider-Man movies have been very consistent with portraying that. To just ditch MJ instead of giving her the ending she deserves, to be with the one she loves the most? To disregard what she made Peter promise to do? Terrible writing.

It's also a disservice to Peter's character. Spider-Man is supposed to end up happy. Peter should get to be with the one he loves the most.

Michelle Jones-Watson is the MCU version of Mary Jane Watson

Michelle Jones-Watson is a reimaging of Mary Jane Watson, and the definitive MJ of the MCU. They're not gonna bring in "the real MJ". Zendaya is the real MJ.

I really shouldn't have to go any further then pointing out that her name is literally MJ Watson. But I will.

Again this will be it's own post eventually, but it's still important enough to shortly talk about here.

This reimagining of MJ shares many core elements with her comic book counterpart.

Both are progressive rebellious characters, Mary Jane being a party girl (which in the 60s was considered progressive) while Michelle Jones is a liberal and activist who has unconventional interests (being interested in conspiracy theories and morbid topics).

They both have a troubled past (especially with their fathers).

Michelle's arc is basically the same as Mary Jane from the comics; dropping a façade she created to hide her vulnerable self, opening up her true caring self to Peter.

Both are their version of Peter’s perfect match.

They're both strong-willed and loyal, sticking with Peter no matter what.

There’s also been several easter eggs connecting Michelle to Mary Jane.

Michelle's birthday (revealed on her passport during FFH promo) is the same day the comic Mary Jane first appeared in was released.

In Far From Home, there’s a license plate on the bridge where Peter and Michelle kiss for the first time that reads “TASM 143”. This is a nod to the issue in which Peter kisses Mary Jane for the first time in the comics, The Amazing Spider-Man #143.

She wears two outfits with tigers on them in Far From Home (nod to Mary Jane's famous line).

Zendaya’s blatant “Face it, Tiger…” post while having red hair during the Far From Home press. And all the other times she's dyed her hair red for Spider-Man press, too (she did it again for NWH promo once).

MJ has always been Peter's true love in every Spider-Man iteration. It was true in the comics (before the current terrible writers ruined it). It was true in the Raimi trilogy. It was going to be true in the Webb films (Mary Jane was gonna be introduced in TASM 3). It was true in Into the Spider-Verse. And it's true here too.

MJ is to Spider-Man what Lois Lane is to Superman. You can't have one without the other.

Definitive statements from Executives

In the Deadline article regarding Jon Watts leaving Fantastic Four, on April 29, 2022, this statement was made.

Sony and its Spider-Man producers have made it clear they expect to reunite Watts with Holland and Zendaya to continue the series.

This was the statement that prompted The Direct's article (among others) in which this news spread and more people realized that Zendaya is likely coming back.

This was reinforced in another interview directly with Tom Rothman, head of Sony, less then a month later.

ROTHMAN: We hope to get working on the next Spider-Man movie. DEADLINE: With Jon Watts, Tom Holland and Zendaya returning? ROTHMAN: That whole group, we hope.

This confirms that the studio wants Zendaya to return. They've made up their mind, creatively. At this point, whether Zendaya returns or not is up to her.

It makes sense that the studio wants her back so bad. Zendaya not only has a ton of star power, but it also dating Tom Holland in real life. Her name is gonna get people in seats.

Statements from Actors

If Tom Holland is coming back for another trilogy, Zendaya's coming back too. Statements from Tom Holland also confirm that she was always gonna come back from the beginning.

Tom Holland stated in an interview with GQ on April 15, 2021 (a month after shooting No Way Home) he will not do another movie without Jon Watts, Jake Batalon, and Zendaya.

So he’d say yes? “Absolutely. One hundred per cent, yes.” Any renegotiation clauses? “We’d need to keep the same core team. The director, Jon Watts, is as much Spider-Man as I am. Zendaya, Jacob [Batalon].”

While he might be exaggerating when implying that he would outright refuse if they all also didn't come back, it emphasizes the importance to which he views the director and his co-stars role in the MCU Spider-Man series. Including Zendaya.

A month later, in an interview with Entertainment Weekly, he stated:

“We were all treating No Way Home as the end of a franchise, let's say. I think if we were lucky enough to dive into these characters again, you'd be seeing a very different version. It would no longer be the Homecoming trilogy. We would give it some time and try to build something different and tonally change the films."

Notice how he says these characters. Plural. Not just him, but also the other MCU Spider-Man characters, meaning MJ and Ned (I mean, it's not like it can mean anyone else).

These statements from Holland are pretty consistently pointing to the same narrative, that all three actors would return if they continued the series.

It's unlikely these statements were made to prevent spoilers. Not only because they align with what's been said after NWH's release, but also because they tried to build up suspense about whether MJ would die in trailers and TV spots and these statements wouldn't match up with that agenda. It's obvious that these statements were made without any studio influence.

This is also corroborated by this statement from Zendaya during the press tour:

ZENDAYA: “Well, we have no idea what the future of us or this Spider-Man franchise is or will be […] if there’s a world where we continue and grow with the characters, that would be beautiful [...]" TOM: “Yeah you said that perfectly.”

They’re talking as a pair, as if returning would mean both of them.

I also think the body language and facial expressions of the two reveals a lot about their feelings on the matter.

It looks like the two know more then they're letting on.

You can hear and see Zendaya’s voice and eyes brighten up when she talks about returning. She has a very positive tone.

Tom looks directly at her as she’s talking about returning whereas most of the time he’s looking down at the ground.

Zendaya looks directly at Tom after saying that continuing the series and both of their characters would be beautiful. If she’s looking at her boyfriend, the person she loves most, directly in the eyes as she’s saying it then it’s probably true, that’s just basic psychology.

Another pretty telling quote also comes from Zendaya. After making the Time100 list for 2022, Zendaya in her interview stated about No Way Home:

“The perfect way to, maybe I don’t know end our trilogy, there’s people that are more in charge then I am so I don’t know what the future holds so I’m just saying.”

Notice how she pins the decision on the executives and not herself. As if she's already made up her mind. This was likely recorded before the executive's decision was made (or at least, before she was aware of it); they record these interviews well in advance.

The fact that she says "our trilogy" is also very telling. She clearly misspoke when she said trilogy, because whether they make a 4th movie or not it’d still be the end of the trilogy. Since she immediately started talking about how they might continue, as if correcting herself, she obviously meant to say series or franchise. It’s not just Tom’s Spider-Man series, it’s hers too.

Zendaya has repeatedly stated and shown that she loves doing the Spider-Man movies. Especially since, you know, the lead is her boyfriend. We don't even have to infer this, she literally said working with Tom is one of her favorite things about playing MJ. She even said she wanted a happy ending for Peter and MJ in this interview.

I am certain that Zendaya will sign on for the next MCU Spider-Man trilogy once given the contract, if she hasn't already.

Statements from Leakers

A very reliable leaker known as Ember, who now runs a Twitter page called Cult of Ember (formally Culture Spider), has stated that Zendaya will definitively be returning, meaning that she has officially signed on.

Now, I don't want to put too much stock on leakers. IMO they should always be taken with some level of uncertainty. At the same time, Ember leaked costumes from No Way Home well in advanced (among other things). She's pretty reliable. She's also the one responsible for the leak that Tom Holland has signed a new 6 picture deal.

The leak about Zendaya signing on also seems to line up with the fact that she just finished filming Dune 2 at the time. Perfect timing to be signing a new contract.

Ember had been saying for awhile that the studio wants Zendaya to return, the exact same thing stated by Sony chairman Tom Rothman.

This was also corroborated by another leaker.

Whether you believe the leakers or not is up to you. I wouldn't take their word as gospel. But they are very consistent and it makes a lot of sense, especially considering all the other evidence.

Addressing arguments against her coming back

"It would undo the consequences of No Way Home"

And Avengers: Endgame undid the consequences of Infinity War (as well as Captain America: Civil War). Your point?

Ending their relationship like this would be a disservice to both of their characters. Neither of them deserve this ending. It's too severe. Peter and MJ have earned their happy ending. And you can have consequences as a result of all this while still having Peter and MJ together again, just like how Endgame did it.

There are plenty of consequences of No Way Home that will stick. The death of Aunt May is obviously permanent, as is the loss of all of the Stark Tech.

"It undoes Peter's choice"

Spider-Man 2's ending also undid Peter's choice at the end of Spider-Man (2002). The same choice Peter makes at the end of No Way Home. Your point?

The point of Spider-Man isn't that he always loses everything, the point of Spider-Man is that he's willing to sacrifice things and gets rewarded for it eventually. He always gets the happy ending.

The "I need to keep the one I love away to protect them" trope never sticks with superheroes. They deserve to be happy, and it's also patronizing and takes away agency from the woman.

Peter made a promise to MJ and he did a disservice to her not fulfilling it.

I find it so odd that the some fans are so willing to have Peter undo his choice to protect Mary Jane by leaving her out of his life in the Raimi trilogy, but want so badly for Peter to keep Michelle out of his life for the same reasons here.

I wonder if there's an underlying issue with some fans mindsets that would explain this...

"It's too soon"

The majority of the fanbase agrees she should come back but thinks she shouldn't come back until the 5th or 6th movie. I do respect this opinion as at least it acknowledges that she's obviously coming back, but at the same time, I can't say I agree entirely.

Like yeah, obviously they shouldn’t get back together within the first 20 minutes of the 4th movie, but at the end? Absolutely.

What other arc is Peter gonna have in the 4th movie other then learning to open up again? Making new friends and having a new girlfriend and putting them at risk is a shitty thing to do when you ditched the ones you had and didn't fulfill a promise you made to them to protect them.

I think it's pretty obvious that Peter's arc is gonna be opening up again, and he's gonna tell MJ the truth at the end of the 4th film.

The longer Peter waits to tell MJ the truth, the harder the relationship would be to repair and the more upset MJ would be at him waiting so long. To me, at least, it seems like something that would be way smarter to resolve sooner rather then later.

Either that, or MJ's gonna figure it out herself and she's gonna be like a detective throughout the movie. Still, though, I think she deserves the truth from Peter.

"You're just a delusional Spideychelle/Tomdaya shipper"

Congratulations, you not only didn't address any of my evidence or points, but you also devolved into ad hominem, the worst thing you can do in any argument.

You just admitted defeat. Thanks for letting me win so easily!

I'm not sure if you're aware but insulting me personally doesn't suddenly make all of the proof disappear. Sorry :)

So there it is, definitive proof that MJ's coming back. If you read the entire thing, congratulations and thank you for reading. And MCU Peter and MJ FTW!

[geode-crystal]

Writeblr Interview tag game!

Wooo thanks for the tag @tildeathiwillwrite this looks like fun!

Open tag for anybody else who wants to answer these :)

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Yes, yes, and yes lol.

I tend to write novel-length things purely because I just... keep going XD I usually get more ideas than a short story allows. I do need to work on keeping things to the point sometimes!

But I have written short stories and one-shots (mostly as responses to promts) and I am very technically a published poet, since a few of my poems were published in a collection thanks to a writing competition back in high school .

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, full stop. I also love books that play on fairy tales and folklore.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

I usually like to have a general idea of where I'm going, and figure the rest out along the way. Sometimes I make full outlines when projects get Really Big.

What music do you listen to while writing?

I either put on one of my incredibly random playlists or go to youtube and look for "relaxing [insert video game here] music." Pokemon soundtracks are actually really nice to write to.

Favorite books/movies?

Soooo many lol.

I'm a big fan of Disney and Pixar movies (as one of my previous posts made pretty obvious lol), particularly the Disney renaissance. Adore The Princess Bride. Love Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. Love Studio Ghibli movies, personal favorite being Castle in the Sky. Of course, we have the classic Muppet Treasure Island as well. And I love every version of Scott Pilgrim out there, the movie, Netflix anime, and graphic novels are all amazing.

And for books... oh my gods there are too many to list here, but shout outs to Catherynne M. Valente's Fairyland series, the Chrestomanci books by Diana Wynne Jones (as well as Howl's Moving Castle), Raybearer and Redemptor by Jordan Ifueko, and the Hero's Guide series by Christopher Healy. Percy Jackson, too.

A lot of my favorite whump moments come from the good old Deltora Quest series by Emily Rhodda and The Mage of Trelian by Michelle Knudsen.

Any current WIPs?

So many. Too many. I need to escape lol.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

I've based a few characters off of people I know before. Mostly my close friends. One of whom I write with a lot, so we've used each other as inspiration several times lol.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

No no no no no, not at all lolol. It's exactly the opposite. I have so much difficulty permanently killing off characters, to the point that my first novel-length project way back in my first year of high school ended with the villain getting polymorphed into a fish instead of dying. XD

I only do permadeath when it is absolutely necessary for the story. But... well, to quote The Return of Jafar: "You'd be surprised what you could live through."

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Don't usually drink or snack while writing.

Slow or fast writer?

Completely depends on the project, but I would say fairly slow. Especially compared to my writing buddy they're an absolute speed demon lol

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Depends on the fantasy world, really. Definitely some kind of musician and/or storyteller, like a troubador or something. Maybe some kind of minor nobility, with all the "fun" I've had with the burden of expectations. I would love to have some kind of magic, especially if it's music-based. So..... basically a bard!

I'd also be very likely to be something not fully human, be that an elf or fairy or mermaid... or even a changeling.

Most fav book cliche:

There's a long list! But I really like Found Family stuff, and any time magic comes with A Price.

Least favorite cliche:

Characters getting pointlessly killed off just for the sake of Extra Drama.

Favorite scene to write?

Hurt/comfort, both ends! I especially love anything with added Guilt for one or all parties!

Reason for writing?

To paraphrase Brian David Gilbert: stories come to me in my dreams like a prophet receiving visions from an angry god.

I write because I'm always coming up with different ideas. I write because I was basically designed to study and create stories. Even if I don't physically write anything down, I will always find a way to tell some kind of story, be it just piecing together ideas in my head or through singing Broadway-style songs or even just attempting to draw a character. I write because it's just what I do!

[ddringo]

Marvel Cinematic Universe: Masterlist

One-shots:

May Parker:

With Great Power...

It's okay (You're human)

Iron Dad:

A special gift

You told me to be better

Looking for a friend

Heroes get remembered, but Legends never die

One last surprise

My nightmares are usually about losing you

The future belongs to freedom, not to fear

That's on me

Lost Boy

Drowning beneath the waves

5 things Peter carried in his pockets + 1 thing he probably should have

Aftershock

With the Weight of the World upon his shoulders

Dorm Rooms Of A Life Worth Living

Lungs

Just breathe

Dream it possible

Four times Peter’s senses overloaded + One time they worked perfectly

Michelle Jones or Ned Leeds or Mary Jane, centric:

Things are never quite as scary when you’ve got a best friend

We won, we lost- we drown

Bursting out into tears because you can’t take it anymore

Autumn

What is lost is found

Quitting is leading too

Who Marks Your Soul

Sam Wilson:

Going to prison is like dying with your eyes open

The end of your journey

My worst fear

Say your name (Say my name)

Someone Take Me Home

Written in the scars

Ready to Comply

Ultimate Spider-man:

A leader is someone who demonstrates what’s possible

No one can win every battle

Autism/Sensory overload:

Shot Down Protocol

Different doesn’t mean wrong

Protocol Overload

Five people who discover Peters autism diagnosis

Miles Morales:

Hero’s dies, his story doesn’t

If you cannot see where you are going (Ask someone who has been there before)

Failure not fatal

Hope is so much stronger than fear

A web of our own mistakes

Morgan Stark:

I didn’t fall, the floor just needed a hug

In an instant

Don’t grow up (It’s a trap)

We are all replaceable

Steve Rogers:

That which consumes your mind, controls your life

Ben Parker:

The dose makes the poison

Hydra:

A hydra spider

[thompsborn]

whoops I forgot I asked a question for a hot second my bad

i mean like

do you imagine tom peter when you’re writing? andrew? toby? do you imagine james franco for harry? or does it change depending on what you’re writing? etc so on and so forth

!!!! okay so, short answer: it kind of depends? like i have the same BASIC idea of the type of appearance each character has, but it kinda varies (i.e. sometimes i write harry with green eyes, sometimes with blue eyes, that kinda thing, you know?) but for the most part, the most accurate like actor representations that kinda capture what i picture is:

tom for peter, unless it’s not mcu-based, in which case it changes (i have two parksborn one shots, both of which it’s andrew)

ty for harley but also like. to the left. like i picture basically ty but brighter blond hair that’s kinda wavy/curly? but basically just ty

mj i just think zendaya bc i pretty much only write michelle jones, not mary jane, but if i ever DO write mary jane then i’d probably base her appearance off of like. like season 3 teen wolf era holland roden aka lydia marten. actually no now that i’ve said that it feels wrong lmao. maybe sadie sink ? but that’s only mary jane, for mj aka michelle jones it’s definitely zendaya

ned is for sure jacob in my head. like he’s ned. i cannot picture another person as ned. jacob is ned.

flash it’s pretty much just mcu flash so tony revelori. except i have a couple drafts for some tasm spiderflash fics in which case i picture tasm flash.

for harry, i mostly just picture like. love simon era nick robinson. he has hazel eyes so his appearance feels fitting for when i write him with blue eyes OR green eyes. but again, if it’s task based then i picture tasm harry aka dane dahaan. i haven’t written for the raimi verse but if i did i would probably go with james franco even though fuck that guy. but since most of my fics are mcu based, for all of those (including tbaf and hb) i picture nick robinson.

gwen is hunter schaffer like i just. that’s gwen! that’s gwen. if mcu at any point brings gwen into the picture i desperately need hunter to play her. though emma meyers is a close second, aka enid from wednesday, i think she could capture gwen’s energy really well, but appearance wise i just want hunter to play her so bad please for the love of god she would NAIL gwen’s character in every single way

i haven’t included betty in many fics but again just mcu betty aka angourie rice (WHO IS STARRING IN THE NEW MEAN GIRLS THE MUSICAL MOVIE AND I AM SO VERY EXCITED ABOUT IT!!!!)

any other characters i write are almost always mcu based so i just picture the actors that play the character haha

[mari--lace]

thank you for the tag @novasforce

Number of stories posted to AO3:

17

2. Word count this year:

38568 (on Ao3. It doesn't account for what I only published on an italian fanfiction site [which doesn't have a word count like Ao3])

3. Fandoms I wrote for:

taking the list from AO3:

Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Black Widow

Daredevil (TV)

Harry Potter

Hawkeye (comics/TV)

The Mirror Visitor

Miraculous Ladybug

Moon Knight (TV)

Ms Marvel (comics/TV)

She-Hulk: Attorney at law

Spider-Man (MCU)

The Avengers

4. Pairings:

I mostly wrote gen relationships this year, but here are the pairings:

Matt Murdock/Jennifer Walters

Matt Murdock/Claire Temple

Matt Murdock/Natasha Romanov

Clint Barton/Laura Barton

Michelle Jones/Peter Parker

Draco Malfoy/Luna Lovegood

Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng (MLB)

Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng (MLB)

5. Stories with the most:

Kudos: What am I looking at, Matt? — published right after She-Hulk ep 8 and the hype for the episode did the rest, my most popular story ever :")

Bookmarks: same as above!

Comment threads: A marvelous october, which has 31 chapters. The fic with more comment threads on a single chapter would be the same as above!

Word count: Same as above with its 31 chapters. As a writer, most of my stories are pretty short; my longest one-chapter story on Ao3 (for 2022 at least) would be Sorelle dal sangue diverso, a one-shot in Italian.

6. Work I'm most proud of (and why):

What's in a soul? I'm really proud of how this turned out. It has Natasha coming back without her memories when Bruce snaps his fingers and it delves on the bond between memoried and identity. Is she still Natasha? Is she not? She meets Matt along the way.

7. Work I'm least proud of (and why): maybe a short hogwarts!au I wrote in italian for a challenge. I'm not super satisfied with the final result (mostly because it doesn't really go anywhere), but it was one of the first things I wrote for the Daredevil fandom, so there's that.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

"oh my goshhhh this is so poetic and beautiful. "Would you like to tell me why?" MY HEART.

Also, Nat saying she “Swapped it for an orange rock.” made me smile. A very Nat thing to say. (And she says she's not still Nat!)"

"oh wow, this is so good, and so poignant? in a way. how you portrayed Nat’s identity issues and struggling to be someone you’re not, someone everyone expects you to be, felt so real. this fic was so lovely. thank you so much for writing! <3"

Both those two comments made me smile so much 🥹

9. A time when writing was really, really hard: Pretty much all the first part of the year, from January to September. I wrote next to nothing then.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you: Maybe that I actually wrote about Clint and Laura. Also Jennifer Walters, I wasn't expecting it but I found writing from her pov pretty easy and kinda fun.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing: from What's in a soul?:

“I'm the ghost of a sister. I'm the ghost of a friend. I'm the ghost of a killer and a hero.” She pauses. Her heartbeat slows back to its usual steady rhythm. “I'm a shadow who is more comfortable talking and fighting with a vigilante than surrounded by people who say they love her.”

12: How did you grow as a writer this year: I wrote a lot directly in English, which is something I didn't really do before (I've translated a few stories in the past, but translating and writing are pretty different processes).

13. How do you hope to grow next year: I hope to keep writing, first of all, in both English and Italian. I hope to improve and to be able to write meaningful stories.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc): I can't not mention @ceterisparibus116. I read pretty much every Daredevil story on her profile and I fell in love with everything – the themes, the characterizations, the plots. So good aaaaaaaaaaaa

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year: there's always something from my experiences in my writing, usually in a not very explicit way, but yeah.

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers: Don't write to cater to an audience; write to cater to yourself. If you love what you do, readers can see that love, and they'll believe in it, too. <- I'm keeping @novasforce's advise because it's really good! And I completely agree. Write what you like first and foremost, without worrying about how many people might or might not read and appreciate it.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year: I am working on something for the DDE, so there's that. I'm also joining a challenge to write a story a month according to certain themes, so I hope to be able to fulfill that too (last year I only got 7 months/12).

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read:

Just, anyone who wants to do this feel free to! Plus @reginadiutopia @drogatadiapifrizzole @folkloristico

[ao3feed-petermj]

free-fall

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/h3Sl1Ws by starbucksmenu "Dude, can you get some uniqueness with your aim?" Damon grumbled, holding his gut again. "Like Damon-" Armani shot Damon a glare before continuing, "-said, I'm Armani. Or if you want my full name, Armani Cronin." He held out his hand. "Wanted mercenary across the U.S. But you ain't allowed me to catch after we fight together, that's being a dick. And then we have, Damon Jade, Mr Stark's half brother." "Uh.. Peter Parker. Mr Stark's intern. I'm here.. 'cause.. I'm a spider?" "I'm sorry, kid, you're a fucking what? A spider like.. the ones I kill every night?" Armani comments, raising an eyebrow, which leads to Damon cackling, playfully punching Armani's shoulder. "Maybe that's not the best thing to say, Crow." Damon gets out in between laughs, holding Armani's shoulder for support. "Okay, so I assume you're the vigilante we saw when he had jobs in New York." Peter shrugged. "Yeah, maybe I am. meet my gremlin ocs this is marvel x pjo civil war-halfway thru infinity war Words: 3355, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other Characters: Original Male Character(s), Original Male Human Character(s), Percy Jackson, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, Clint Barton, Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson), Luke Castellan, Thanos (Marvel) Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Percy Jackson & Peter Parker, Annabeth Chase & Percy Jackson & Peter Parker, Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson) & Peter Parker, Percy Jackson & Tony Stark read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/h3Sl1Ws

[queen-daya]

Every Shot of Michelle Jones (Part 35/♾️)

[ao3feed-friendsofspiderman]

A Hero In Flannel

by pandaluna

If your boyfriend doesn’t come visit you anymore, is he still your boyfriend? MJ knew that technically, the answer was yes, but her heart ached with each passing day with Spider-Man still being a no-show. Ned looked like he was crumbling, too, because despite getting accepted into MIT like they both wanted to in the first place, this didn’t feel right without their best friend to add to the mix.

There was a gaping hole in the memories where they knew someone was supposed to fit. Someone was supposed to fill in these missing parts where a person once was, living and breathing. Every memory they had of Spider-Man without his mask was now blurry since they couldn’t, for the life of them, remember what he looked like under that red and blue costume. And it hurt.

Words: 6932, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 28 of Peter Parker One-Shots!, Part 2 of Knight In Shining Armor

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Peter Parker, Michelle Jones, Ned Leeds, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is Pepper Potts's Biological Child, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark are Siblings (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Post-Spider-Man: No Way Home (Movie)

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/47757796

[hopeisawriter]

followers of fate (spideychelle fic)

Michelle Jones works the same shift at Caff's Coffee every week. A repetitive routine that pays well enough for her to put college tuition at the back of her head. When a mousy brunette walks in, she can't help but observe him. When she finds out they have the same classes, it gets even harder.

Peter Parker is a mess. A poster child of the college experience. Red Bull and ramen, on death's doorstep (figuratively). When he walks into Caff's for a coffee, he can't help but notice the barista. When he notices her staring at him in a lecture, he calls it fate.

OR

An eventual romance that stems from coffee, academia, and the journey of falling in love.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/46947886/chapters/118265212

--------------

CHAPTER 1:  Caff's Coffee (A meet-cute)

It’s strange how the simplest people can catch one’s eye.

You spend so much time in life going through the motions that you don’t realize what you were doing before you met your best friend. Your rival. Even your partner.

A moment in time that shifts the course of your entire life.

*****

Michelle worked her part-time shift at Caff’s Coffee , a small cafe on Westly and Third. It was near Brown’s University, where she spent copious hours hunched over her notes and procrastinating. She was not sure what she wanted to do with her life yet but at the ripe age of 18, she was reading about political thinkers and writing essays. Lot’s.

“Michelle, can you take over cash?”

She saw his shadow before she saw him. Cade. Her 6’ tall and hip manager is in his 20’s. Not in college or university or further education like most of her work associates. Not sure how he ended up running this cafe but he was understanding and paid well.

No arguments from her.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Dude. You know I hate people.”

Cade shrugged his shoulders, the AC causing his usual grey flannel to ruffle like a wave, the buttons shifting back and forth.

“Not my problem,” he responded, voice assertive yet kind. “You chose to work here with the knowledge that working cash was a requirement. Congrats, we’re understaffed.”

He waved his hand towards her in a shooing motion.

She grumbled under her breath but walked towards the counter nonetheless.

“How can I help you?” She mumbled, trying to keep the edge of her voice dull as she looked at the register, ready to type in the order.

“Can I get a drink with the most caffeine?”

Michelle bit back a grumble, begging the world to swallow her whole. Kids always came here asking for caffeine, yet get mad when the drink makes them feel on edge.

She crossed her arms and looked up.

The kid seemed friendly; he had mousy brown hair and almost too-pale skin. She made the executive decision to loosen up. She noted his bloodshot eyes and deep eye bags.

Let’s cut this kid some slack.

“We can do that for you. However, I think what you really need is sleep. A lot of it. In fact, you should be cast in a time-accurate version of sleeping beauty.”

She tacked on her customer-service smile–she could feel her cheeks.

The kid grinned at her, eyes crinkled and a soft smile.

He shook his head vigorously. He was a common brunette, but something about him stood out. Maybe it was his calm stature or his unkempt hair.

“Can’t. I have an exam today. Not ready.” He stumbled over his words. It was like each word was fighting to escape his throat before the other.

She sighed.

“All right man, I hope it goes well. Most people do not like our most caffeinated drink, Nitro cold brew with a double shot of espresso.”

“I’ll take it.”

She believed him.

“All right,” she muttered, typing his order in while going through the motions. “Credit or debit?”

“Actually-

Michelle looked up at him.

“Do you take cash?” He pulled at his necklace, a silver chain with what appeared to have a charm. The letter B. Probably the first letter of his name. Ben? Basil? Brett?

She shuddered. Brett did not suit him as a name at all.

“Hey?”

Shoot.

“Sorry, yea we take cash. Your total is $3.52.”

He fiddled with his pockets and dropped the coins into her palm.

She scanned them quickly and placed them into the registrar.

“Your order will be on the other side of the counter shortly.”

He smiled in response and headed to wait for his order.

Don’t say anything. Don’t-

“Hey, man!”

The kid turned to look at her.

“Good luck with your exam. I hope the coffee doesn’t kill you.”

“You better make sure that it doesn’t,” he grinned in response. “Thanks. I’m Peter by the way.”

She chewed at her lip and gave what she hoped was a smile in response.

“Michelle.”

“Nice to meet you, Michelle.”

She coughed into her sleeve.

“You too.”

He walked away.

She observed Peter as she made his drink. His skinny fingers picked at his maroon hoodie, eyes lost in thought.

She scooped and dumped the ice into the plastic (hopefully biodegradable?) cup. Pulled the coffee from the machine next, content to hear the steady spill of espresso. She was aware of her left foot tapping in beat with whatever playlist was playing on the cafe speakers.

Michelle finished making the drink, capping the lid on with a satisfying click.

She picked out an oatmeal raisin cookie and packaged it, then headed over to the counter where Peter stood, shifting his feet from side to side.

“Here’s your order.” She said as she slipped the drink towards him and the cookie, crinkling in its bag.

Peter grabbed the drink and furrowed his brows.

“I think there was a mistake, I didn’t order that.”

“It’s no mistake,” She replied confidently. “It’s yours. For after the exam. To celebrate .”

Peter froze.

She nudged it towards him.

“Come on, Peter. I have other customers to serve.”

As if shaken out of a trance, he grabbed it slowly.

“Thank you, Michelle.”

“What are you thanking me for, you paid for it.”

He looked inside the bag and squinted at the board.

“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Peter responded with a grin.

Before she could respond, coins tumbled out of his hands and onto the counter in front of her. Exactly the price of the cookie.

All she could do was glare as he bolted out of the shop with a loud, “THANK YOU!”

She could see Cade's shadow before she could see him.

“Don’t start,” she warned, raising a finger.

Cade shrugged and walked away.

Michelle went back to work, taking customers' orders. Boring orders, she might add.

A small part of her hoped Peter would show up again if only to give her a chance to lecture him on not accepting gifts.

Another part of her cringed at her actions.

You were going to give a customer you just met… a free cookie?

Pull it together Michelle.

She hopes his exam went well.

Gosh darn-it.

If she didn’t pull it together soon, she might actually want to take people’s orders.

[ao3feed-janefoster]

The Ladies

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/adI7vLn

by on_the_moon_at_last

A collection of Drabbles and One-shots featuring one fabulous Marvel woman for every day of March.

Words: 200, Chapters: 2/31, Language: English

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Carol Danvers, Sharon Carter (Marvel), Maria Hill, Peggy Carter, Pepper Potts, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Yelena Belova, Betty Ross, Wanda Maximoff, Jemma Simmons, Skye | Daisy Johnson, Bobbi Morse, Maria Rambeau, Monica Rambeau, Ramonda (Marvel), Sylvie (Loki TV), Jane Foster (Marvel), Kate Bishop, Angie Martinelli, Dottie Underwood, Hope Van Dyne, Janet Van Dyne, Darcy Lewis, Dinah Madani, Karen Page, Michelle Jones, Brunnhilde | Valkyrie (Marvel), Joy Meachum, Christine Palmer, Marci Stahl, Nebula (Marvel)

Additional Tags: Drabble Collection, Women Being Awesome, Women's History Month, Women In Power, Women in the Military

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/adI7vLn

[silkscream]

happy 3k love!! can I get a sangria (ik ik I'm a thirsty bitch) with mcu Peter Parker where he's like the complete opposite of his high school self and meets reader? you can go in any direction honestly I don't mind I just love reading the way you put words together 🤰🤰🤰🤰💙

“another round for the ladies over there, y/n.”

you roll your eyes with a smirk. “another one, jim? tell me, has any of them promised you some pussy yet tonight?”

“oi, fuck off,” the man in front of you huffs. “it’s called being a gentleman.”

you scoff, shaking your head, but continue to pour five tequila shots anyway. jim, your thirty-five year old regular, was always unlucky when it came to finding dates, often keeping company with whatever gaggle of sorority girls caught his eye or happened to catch on that he was easily manipulated. you watched every friday night for 1) your own amusement, 2) being nice to jim granted great tips even though you had to deny his many advances, and 3) you needed to make sure the bastard wasn’t actually a creep to any of these young girls.

“whatever you say, james.”

you turn to update his tab when a familiar voice pipes up behind you.

“what kind of mezcal do you have?”

your head whips to the source of the voice. you lock eyes with a pair of familiar brown ones, though you aren’t sure where his face is from. a step closer and the boyishness in his face shows much clearer under the lamplight.

“peter? peter parker?”

“hey,” he chuckles.

“thought you were at MIT or whatever.”

“you know it’s the summer time, right?” he raises a brow. something about his appearance is more refined, hardened compared to the last time you saw him. when you had last seen peter parker, you were both in graduation gowns and you’d watched him walk the stage to take his diploma. he had been holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, cheek to cheek with michelle jones while his aunt may had an arm around his neck. you didn’t have the courage to congratulate him, let alone tell him about your two-year crush, and then he’d vanished before your eyes. seeing him now was like being inside a dream.

“right,” you blink at him, clearing your throat to make an attempt back at professionalism. “oh! uh, we’ve got peloton de la muerte, don amado…”

“i’ll just get a mezcal mule with whatever you prefer,” he interrupts. you nod with a sheepish smile.

you can feel his eyes scanning your body as you make his drink, which has your back straightening like a tree.

“on the house,” you murmur as you set the glass in front of him.

“what? really?”

“it’s not every day you get a midtown alum at your bar,” you shrug, leaning your elbow on the counter. you hope he doesn’t see right through you.

“surprising. i thought you’d see tons considering how many of them stay in manhattan,” peter shrugs.

he’d made you nervous before, back in high school, mostly because he was so unprecedented and you were so timid and stuck in the shadows. meanwhile, peter exuded pure sunlight with his bashfulness, his kindness. it didn’t particularly set in the person in front of you, though. maybe it had been two or three years since graduation, but at the moment, it feels like you’re talking to a new version of the boy you once spent countless decathlon practices with.

“it’s good money, the bartending?” he quips with curiosity as he sips his drink.

“it’s enough for the summer. lots of lonely men need a couple drinks and some female company.”

“better than trying to save the world.”

“what do you mean?”

peter doesn’t answer. he merely flashes you a smile that definitely hides something underneath, but you don’t know him enough to pry. to be fair, you hardly know him at all. you only have the idea of him that you’d made up during your high school years, and even now, you assume that you’ll probably go home and dream of made-up versions of him. his presence is like a test to your psyche at the moment. nothing significant — nothing worth giving your time to ever stayed. you didn’t expect peter to, either.

that is, until he orders more drinks. a mezcal mule, a white wine, a ginger ale mixed with whatever your finger lands on when you close your eyes. it’s a weekday night, so most of your usual patrons have fucked off for the night, leaving you to wipe down the counters and sweep before the clock even hits one.

“gotta kick you out, parker.”

“who, me? where am i supposed to go now?” his voice has a begging tone to it that makes you want to sink into quicksand. or maybe you’re drunk, because the shots he was ordering were for you. he’d slip them towards you, insisting that you needed to loosen up on this tuesday night, and you could never say no to free alcohol. he’d given you a fat tip after all.

“i live a few blocks from here. come with. you can wait there when you figure out a way home,” you giggle, pulling on your corduroy button down over your crop top as you head out the door. as you lock up the bar, peter watcheS you with acute attention — he notices the way your eyes are half-lidded after a few shots, the casual slump of your shoulders, the pixie-like cadence of your voice when you talk about something you’re excited about. he thinks you’re adorable.

__

once you’re able to sit down on the couch in your apartment, peter plops down next to you sloppily. you end up intertwining legs in the most casual way. you don’t even notice, really.

“you’re different than what you used to be, peter parker.”

“how so?” he chuckles.

“scary,” you mumble.

“huh? sorry, i couldn’t hear you,” peter murmurs, grabbing your head from your neck closer to him. you hitch your breath, which lodges itself in his throat when you feel his calloused fingertips. the feeling excites you, has all your neurons firing in your body.

“you’re less nerdy now.”

“i’ve been through a lot,” he purrs into your ear, and no, it’s not like the nerdy peter you once knew at all. it’s the husky voice of someone who knows what he’s doing, someone who’s willing to take what he wants. you hope he does. you hope it’s you.

you take in a breath, looking at the wall in front of you instead of him in an attempt to calm your nerves, but he doesn’t let you. he merely turns your head to plant a kiss on your mouth gently, so delicately as if he’s trying to touch the fluff of a dandelion without all of it floating away. he grins into the kiss when you reciprocate with passion, tongue exploring the inside of his mouth and feeling the taste of mezcal, of lime, of ginger.

when he emerges, his brown eyes are hooded with desire.

“this okay?”

you nod. “you can do whatever you want to me,” you say breathlessly. his cocky smile shows that he’s willing to test that theory.